


Castle Voldemort

by Stargon



Series: The Cupboard Series [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, diricawlacademy, thecupboardseries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 91,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargon/pseuds/Stargon
Summary: Hogwarts has fallen. In its place stands Castle Voldemort. With the Hogwarts students held hostage, the Ministry has surrendered. All of magical Britain is now under the rule of Lord Voldemort. All, that is, but for those few at Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies. But what can so few really do against such odds?





	1. Chapter 1

_Bright eyes peeked out from under the low-hanging branches. From the position that they were in, it was impossible for the men and creatures patrolling the expansive grounds in front of the castle to see them. It helped that tonight, what little light the crescent moon would be putting out, was hidden behind some convenient clouds._

_Ahead of him, maybe less than three or four body lengths away, were the great wards that had protected these lands for millennia, wards that had recently had a major upgrade. To cross them would mean instant death. Usually. Thankfully, there was one flaw, a flaw that was soon to be utilised._

_Seeing that the grounds were as sparse as they were going to get, the eyes shut briefly, a silent prayer going up._

_Opening his eyes, the mongoose looked left and right, taking in the shapes of those around him, both big and small. Small eyes; sharp eyes; hard eyes; fierce eyes; and even eyes doing their best to hide their fear all looked back at him._

_Heads nodded, giving the agreed upon signal._

_It was time._

-oOoOo-

**Six days previously …**

Harry Potter stood on the great platform staring out at the sea in front of him.

If it wasn’t for the way his black hair with its red tips whipped about his face and neck, one would almost think that he was a statue. Well, the hair and the eyes. His bright emerald eyes were fixed on the progress of the hovercraft as it slowly navigated its way through the labyrinth-like wards that surrounded Ynys Crochenydd, otherwise known as Potter Island, the home of Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies.

This was not the first time that the school’s hovercraft had crossed through the wards to reach the island. Just under a year ago had been its first crossing, still when the island school had been in the construction stage. It’d made a second crossing a couple of months after that to bring some of Diricawl’s new students to the island.

After that, the hovercraft had been driven into its purpose-built shed at the end of the very platform that Harry was currently standing on. Theoretically, the vessel’s next outing should have been the day that the school year ended and it was pressed into service to take those students who were due to return home that way across to the mainland.

Instead, the school year had ended and every one of those students had remained on the island: it simply wasn’t safe for them to leave.

Less than a week ago, magical Britain had received the shock of its life when the Hogwarts Express, the great scarlet steam train that was used to take the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry between London and Hogsmeade, had arrived back in the country’s capital devoid of students.

As the train had come to a stop, a charmed message had been broadcast to all of the parents and families on the platform, a message that had quickly been played across the Wizarding Wireless Network for every witch and wizard within the country to hear: Lord Voldemort had come to Hogwarts with his Death Eaters and captured the castle, staff and students and all.

According to the message, there had been blood spilled when the castle was taken. Exactly what that meant was anyone’s guess. Hope, however vain, abounded that it was only injuries, not deaths that had occurred. The message went on to say that, with the nation’s magical children in Voldemort’s ‘care’, it was expected that magical Britain – the Ministry and every witch and wizard – capitulate to the Dark Lord’s rule.

Within an hour, the then Minister for Magic, Delores Umbridge had resigned and offered the Ministry of Magic to Lord Voldemort’s representatives. And when those representatives walked into the Ministry building, they simply took over, installing new Department Heads where necessary or having hidden Death Eaters reveal themselves and continue in their positions.

The Dark Lord’s top lieutenants had sequestered themselves in an office along with Umbridge and a number of Department Heads for close to an hour. When they’d emerged, they announced to the assembled reporters that Lord Voldemort wished for Umbridge to retain the Minister for Magic position, as his representative, of course.

And though the Ministry was under new ‘leadership’, the fact that it was near impossible to tell the difference from the previous week, meant that, for all intents and purposes, the coup was seamless, bloodless and created barely a stir, even overseas.

There hadn’t even been any riots in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or any of the other magical districts. The fact that the nation’s children were being held hostage assured that. Shops remained open. People continued with their lives, albeit in a more subdued or hurried manner.

The goblins of Gringotts had kept their bank open, after all, closed doors did not equal profits. Their one concession to the change in the magical landscape was the presence of an additional squad of twenty guards in full armour and carrying halberds and shields, swords and axes on their hips, stationed in the main lobby of the bank. The question of how many more were ready in the tunnels behind closed doors was anyone’s guess.

The only instance of rebellion of any sort consisted of those at or allied with Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies.

Madam Bones, once head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had absconded from the Ministry with the handful of aurors that she trusted and holed up on the island.

Beth Pemberton, one of the Diricawl’s part-time teachers, had had her staff hurriedly pack up the entirety of _Hermione’s Book Nook_ , the small bookshop cum café that she ran and moved to the island.

The magical parents of Diricawl’s students had flooded the FLOO with frantic calls, ensuring themselves that their children were alright before either moving themselves and the rest of their family to the island or simply bunkering down under the strongest wards that they owned and hoping for the best.

As for the non-magical parents of Diricawl’s students, they had been warned of the danger through the actions of Sirius Black and his accomplices Fred and George Weasley. The three had taken the school’s hovercraft out, after carefully disillusioning it, of course, and proceeded to travel up and down the country as quickly as they could, contacting and in many cases, evacuating the families from their homes.

As it was, this was the fourth time that the school’s hovercraft had returned to the island, filled with people and luggage and, mostly likely, even with the odd pet or two. Only the fact that the disillusionment charm had needed to be dropped before the hovercraft entered the active magical field of the ward labyrinth had allowed Harry to see its progress.

Finally, the hovercraft straightened and headed in for shore. Seeing this, Harry stepped back, away from where he knew that it was headed and leant on his rowan staff, a look of relief on his face. It was rare to see Harry without his iconic staff these days, even on the island behind what were arguably the strongest wards in the country he constantly carried it with him.

The rowan staff, found by Harry in Hogwarts’ Chamber of Secrets when he was battling the shade of Tom Riddle and the basilisk that lived in the Chamber, was a very powerful magical device. Even though Harry had been practicing with it and using it for three years, he usually still preferred his faithful wand for most of his spell work. But when it came to raw power, the staff was magnitudes ahead and a definite ace in his hand.

The fact that Harry had been training for more than eight hours a day with the staff on not only his accuracy but also on more powerful and destructive spells since Hogwarts had been taken had also increased his affinity for it. The extra tips that Mad-Eye Moody gave every now and then weren’t anything to sneeze at either.

With a great blast of air that it pushed before it, the hovercraft fairly leapt from the water to the shore to the great platform before quietening to a halt a bare few metres from its shed.

Harry watched as the door in the side slid open and a set of stairs magically appeared leading from it down to the platform.

“Welcome to Ynys Crochenydd,” Fred said with a great flouring bow after appearing in one side of the doorway.

“Home of Diricawl school and the free magical population of Britain,” George completed with a bow identical to that of his brother.

“My daughter was certainly right about you two,” a pudgy, balding man laughed as he paused to slap the two red-heads on the back. “Now, which way to my Katie?”

Before either could answer, a slim woman with dark shoulder-length hair appeared and grabbed the man’s arm.

“Come along, Bert,” she said as she began dragging the man down the stairs. “If I know our daughter, she’ll be somewhere in the thick of things, either on the quidditch pitch or in the common area of their dormitory.”

Harry grinned at the man’s demure “yes, dear” as he was led from the platform up the hedge-lined path towards the school.

“Harry!”

“Good to see you, old bean!”

“You’re late,” Harry stated, ignoring the twins’ exuberance.

“We had to make a slight detour,” Sirius stated as he descended the stairs from the hovercraft.

Harry cocked his head in question, but kept silent until the last of the passengers had reached the ground and had been directed up towards the school.

“Why the detour?” he finally asked.

“There’s a small group of Death Munchers watching the island from the mainland,” Sirius stated grimly. “Don’t worry, they’re not on Potter ground, at least, not yet, but they’re there.”

“Did they see you?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Nah, not with the disillusionment charm,” Sirius replied. “But just to make sure, we took the scenic route, going out in a wide arc out into the bay.”

“Still say that you should have gone faster,” George pouted.

“Those waves were ripe for shooting over,” Fred added.

“We could have easily hit ten or twenty feet up, I reckon,” said George.

“Another time, boys,” Sirius laughed. “When we don’t have a bunch of people on board who are likely to get sea-sick.”

Fred and George shared an evil look.

“But imagine the mayhem …”

“When they ‘heave ho’ …”

“Or feed the fishes …”

“With their technicolour yawn …”

“That’s enough, you two,” Sirius laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that they’re be other opportunities to make the janitor get out the ol’ sawdust bucket after some epic chundering.”

“I’m supposed … to tell you … that there’s a meeting … as soon as you get back,” Harry wheezed through his laughter while leaning heavily on his staff.

Instantly, the laughter dropped away as Sirius became serious.

“Then we’d better get up there,” he stated.

-oOoOo-

“Now that we’re all here,” Mad-Eye pointedly grumbled, his real brown eye fixed on the late arrivals while his blue magical eye continuously rolled about his head, “we can finally get started.”

Harry quickly crossed the room and took his seat beside Remus, Sirius sliding in on his other side.

Diricawl’s Dining Hall was empty save for those seated around the large round table. The doors had been magically sealed, to Moody’s approving standards no less, not that Harry understood why. After all, everyone on the island had declared themselves enemies of Riddle and his regime simply by being there.

As he glanced around the table, Harry wondered who it was that was going to take the lead.

Moody, of course was a prime candidate, as was Amelia Bones. Both were aurors and had been for a long time and had a wealth of experience. Shacklebolt, too, was an auror, but Harry couldn’t really see the quiet man leading the group or resistance or whatever they were.

Madam Longbottom had been on the Wizengamot for decades, but she was a politician, not a war-leader. Croaker had positioned himself in such a way as to ensure that his cowl cast deep shadows over his face, a natural sort of position for the Head Unspeakable, a group who prided themselves on operating in the shadows.

Minerva McGonagall was, of course, the Headmistress of Diricawl, and in a natural leadership position, especially considering where the meeting was being held. Remus, Sirius, Cyrus Greengrass and Harry himself rounded out the group at the table.

“Harry, if you would call for Dobby, please,” Minerva said.

Harry started. Dobby? If he was being asked to call for Dobby …

Instantly, Harry half-turned in his seat, a hopeful, expectant look on his face.

“Dobby?”

A slightly louder than normal _pop_ signified not one, but _three_ house elves arriving. Dobby was there, swaying slightly in the middle as Jaxom and Nerri helped him stand.

Instantly, Harry slid from his chair to the floor in front of his friend.

“Dobby,” he said, reaching out a careful hand to gently touch the elf on his shoulder. “You’re looking better. How do you feel?”

Great green eyes the size of tennis-balls looked up and it was almost as though, for an instant, Dobby was his old self again. But then, that instant passed and the tired, pain-filled look in his eyes returned.

“Dobby is feeling well enough to tell Master Harry Potter Sir and his friends what Dobby learnt,” the elf replied.

“Master Harry no push Dobby,” Nerri stated, a stern look in her brown eyes. “Dobby not strong yet. Dobby still has much healing to do.”

Harry nodded eagerly, instantly agreeing with the fierce-looking elf.

Really, how could anyone not agree with Nerri’s assessment? Dobby’s skin was decidedly pale, apart from where the bruising along his jaw and around both eyes were very apparent. One arm was in a sling and both of his large, bat-like ears were heavily bandaged.

Slowly, hesitantly, Dobby began to tell his story.

“Dobby was able to get into Hogwarts okay. The wards felt different to Dobby but not strong enough to stop an elf. No one saw Dobby arrive, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or bad dark men or professories or students.

“Dobby found Lizzie in the kitchens. All the elveses were in the kitchens. But as soon as the other elveses saw Dobby they rushed at Dobby and began hitting Dobby. Dobby could tell that they didn’t want to but elveses did it anyway.”

“The Hogwarts elves must have been ordered to attack any other elves that enter the castle,” Moody grunted.

“Yes, Mister Whizzy Eye,” Dobby agreed with an emphatic nodding of his head that almost overbalanced him. “When the other elveses were hitting Dobby, they told Dobby what they could. It was the only way that they could _rebel_.”

This last was said in a near whisper, awe and respect filling Dobby’s voice.

“What did they tell you, Dobby?” Harry prompted.

“Hoggywarts elveses must hurt any other elves that come into the castle. Hoggywarts elveses not allowed to leave the castle for any reason or to go to any of the professories or students if they call, only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his men,” Dobby replied.

“That scuppers that plan,” Amelia noted.

“That not be all that Dobby be learning,” Dobby said. “Hoggywarts elves able to tell Dobby some of what has happened at Hoggywarts, too. Professory Snape is now Headmaster and the studentsies are locked in their dorms unless it be meal time or lesson time.”

“Has anyone been killed?” Moody asked.

“Yes,” Dobby replied, his ears drooping slightly even with the bandages. “Professory Plants and Filchy and cat, house elvesies say.”

Gasps could be heard all around the table.

“What about Dumbledore? Did they say anything about Albus?” Minerva asked intently.

“Not dead. Banished. Dobby not know more than that,” the little elf replied.

“Was there anything else?” Harry asked. “Did the Hogwarts elves say anything else?”

“Dobby sorry, Master Harry Sir,” Dobby replied, wearily shaking his head. “That was all that Dobby could learn.”

“How did you escape?” Croaker asked.

“Dobby could tell that the Hoggywarts house elveses were trying not to hurt Dobby, only following orders. When Dobby learnt what he could, he simply _popped_ home,” Dobby replied.

“The elves don’t like this anymore than we do and did what they could to tell the outside world,” Augusta summarised. “They are to be commended.”

“Wouldn’t have thought that they’d have it in them,” Moody grunted.

“You’d be surprised exactly what house elves are capable of,” Minerva retorted. “Stay here long enough and you’ll learn.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry smiled at his friend. “Go back to bed and rest up. I don’t want to see you up and doing things again until you’re completely healed. Understand?”

“Yes, Master Harry Sir,” Dobby replied.

With that, the three elves _popped_ away.

“Did you note that he said that they’ve changed the wards around Hogwarts?” Cyrus asked.

“That matches the information that we have,” Amelia replied. “It seems that Voldemort has added a ward that only allows a person to pass through them if they are carrying the Dark Mark.”

“That information came at great cost,” Moody added, his magical eye spinning to pierce each one of them. “One of Croaker’s men tried to sneak in to get some information. The wards fried him to a crisp.”

“So, there’s no way to get into the castle? Or to get the children out?” Augusta asked.

“Not saying that,” Moody replied. “Only saying that people can’t pass through those wards.”

“What about using one of the secret passages? There were seven of them originally – of course, four have collapsed but we could dig them back out?” Sirius suggested.

Even before he had finished making his proposal, Remus was shaking his head.

“Wormtail knows that castle and all of its passages just as well as we do,” he pointed out. “Every one of those passages will be warded and guarded.”

“Hey! The Marauder’s Map!” Harry blurted. “We can use that to at least have some idea of what’s going on inside the castle. I’ve still got it; it’s in my trunk.”

“Map? What map?” Moody asked, both eyes fixed on Harry.

“James, Sirius, Wormtail and I created a map of the castle when we were at school,” Remus replied. “It’s tied into the wards and shows every room and passage in the castle. And exactly where everyone is inside the castle at any given moment.”

“Sounds like a useful tool,” Moody acknowledged.

“But that still doesn’t help us rescue the children held hostage there,” Augusta stated.

“Nor the staff,” Minerva added.

“No, but it’s a start,” Moody countered. “Once we work out a way to get past the wards, we’ll have a way to move around the castle without being caught. Assuming that this map is as good as they say it is, of course.”

“Don’t worry, it is,” Sirius grinned. “The amount of detentions we avoided and pranks we pulled using it …”

He trailed off at that point seeing the stern look and extremely thin lips that Minerva sported.

“Looks like our focus has to be on finding a weakness in those wards,” Moody stated. “And the subtler the better – wouldn’t want to have to face the Dark Lord’s forces if they know we’re coming.”

“Not to mention the fact that they’d probably use the children as shields,” Croaker added.

That thought was enough to make everyone around the table pause and still into silence, a silence that was eventually broken by the old, grizzled auror who had seemed to have taken charge of the meeting.

“Well, who’s got some ideas?” he asked.


	2. Chapter 2

_The purely human guards on the grounds had thinned somewhat in the last couple of hours. Unfortunately, the … other guards had not._

_Deep black shadows floating in a clustered group off to one side indicated where the dementors were doing their rounds._

_A number of men were sharing a smoke not more than a couple of hundred metres further around the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest, their eyes, a bright yellow when the dim light hit it, indicating that these were werewolves, currently in their human forms due it not being a full moon. But even in human form, werewolves possessed enhanced senses – smell, hearing, sight – that made them particularly good guards._

_Half a dozen trolls – great brutes with clubs the size of small logs on their shoulders, wandered aimlessly about their grounds, their path near impossible to pick as they simply weren’t smart enough to keep a defined pattern in mind._

_And then there were the fire crabs. While they couldn’t be seen with human eyes in the middle of the night, animal eyes were able to pick out the movement of the creatures as they scuttled about the shore of the Black Lake where they’d been confined as a ‘welcoming committee’ for any that tried to access the castle that way._

_Exactly why so many of these guards were needed when the wards that were in place around the castle and its grounds were so comprehensive, was anyone’s guess._

_As though answering that very question, a dark shadow slipped forwards out of the dense underbrush of the forest and cautiously slunk forward, its belly close to the ground. Every eye of those that had accompanied it here watched intently, some even anxiously, as it moved forward._

_Finally, it had reached its designated target, all without either being fried or simply keeling over and dying. It stood, then, and looked back, the soft swish of leaves indicating that its tail was wagging. If one could see its mouth, it would have seen the grin that it was sporting, not to mention the hints of ‘see, I told you so’ in its eyes._

_Slowly, one by one, the path that the forerunner had taken was emulated by each of the others._

-oOoOo-

**Five and a half days previously …**

The book was old. Over a thousand years old, in fact. It showed, really, with its great sizing, nearly an armlength long and half that wide. And the materials that it’d been made from as well, gave indication – a thick, hard leather binding that once was probably a rich black but had faded to a dark grey with hints of blue. Its pages weren’t made of paper or even parchment, but thin vellum.

For all of its great age, though, the book was in remarkable condition – almost perfect condition; a testament to the powerful preservation charms that had been cast on it. In fact, those charms, as far as anyone knew, had never needed to be renewed. Only an incredibly powerful witch or wizard could have cast such a charm, which gave even more proof that the Founders of Hogwarts had indeed created it.

Accompanying the Book was a small pot of vibrant green ink, a pot that had been charmed to be ever-lasting, as well as a magnificent quill.

The three teachers watched, wide-eyed as the quill floated up, dipped its head into the ink and moved towards the now open book where it wrote a single name before settling back into place on the desk.

“Megan Elizabeth Hawkins,” Minerva read.

The three knew exactly what the name heralded: the birth of a new magical, for that was the function of the Book – to record all magical births within the British Isles, whether from magical parentage or non. Indeed, the Founders of Hogwarts had spent an age placing ward stones at strategic places all over the Isles and then tying to them the Book so that it would do so. Unfortunately, the knowledge of how they did this had since been lost.

But then, that may have been a blessing, especially considering the times that they now lived in.

Not even the Ministry of Magic had the capability of finding all of the magicals within the British Isles, be they of magical descent or non-magical descent, of-age or still children. Only the Book could do that. For it not only named each birth, but with a tap of a wand, it would show the exact home address of that individual at that very moment (assuming that they were alive, of course). A simple spell also allowed the quill to address envelopes to all those who were of the correct age to be magically educated, as well.

“Well?” Minerva asked her colleagues.

“Pomona gave her life to keep this safe, to ensure that the children born to non-magicals wouldn’t be found and forced to become hostages for You-Know-Who,” Remus stated. “If we start traipsing all over the countryside, we’re sure to be noticed and bring Death Eaters to their very door.”

“But what right do we have to keep the knowledge of what has happened to their children from the parents and family of those who are trapped at Hogwarts. I am sure that there are many out there who are frantic with worry, especially those who were waiting on the non-magical side of King’s Cross for their children who simply never arrived,” Filius argued.

“What are we supposed to do? Bring all of those people here? You know that You-Know-Who would love nothing more than to kill them simply because they’re muggles,” Remus said. “This island is large, but it’s not that large, especially when we’ve already brought the families of our own students here to keep them safe.”

“I wouldn’t expect many to leave their lives as it is,” Filius squeaked, “but they still deserve to know.”

“I’m not arguing that part,” Remus replied. “I’m simply saying that our very presence has the potential to put them in even more danger than they’re currently in – anonymity is their best defence against the Death Eaters and we could take that from them.”

“Who’s to say that the children aren’t being forced to give up their home addresses as it is? That very anonymity won’t keep them safe then,” Filius argued. “They will then be caught completely unaware if they are attacked.”

“You both have excellent points,” Minerva broke into the debate, “but what we need to be thinking about is what’s right. And informing the parents of the non-magical born what has happened to their children and helping them make informed decisions is the right thing to do.

“Unfortunately, even though it would probably be safer, simply sending an owl with this sort of news would be incredibly irresponsible, not to mention insensitive. No, this news needs to be delivered in person. Then the families can make an informed choice about what to do about it – remain where they are or to go into hiding. Remus is right though, Diricawl simply does not have the capacity to house the number of people that we’re talking about.”

Both men nodded their agreement.

“Who do we send, though?” Remus asked.

“We have two options, I think,” Minerva replied. “We can send Sirius and the twins in the hovercraft once more; or we can try a more subtle approach and have things entirely non-magical.”

“That would help keep what we’re doing away from the wrong eyes,” Remus mused. “Perhaps Dan, Emma, Mike and Susan or a combination of them would agree?”

“I would happily go with them,” Filius volunteered. “A magical to explain things would make sense.”

Both Minerva and Remus couldn’t help but look pointedly at the chair that the tiny Charms Master was sitting in as it floated a metre off the ground – the same chair that Filius had been confined to ever since his back had been broken over a year and a half ago at the First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Filius chuckled at them. “This thing works just as well on the ground as it does in the air with all of the charms that I’ve placed on it. And who would suspect a person in a wheelchair to have magic up their sleeve if the need arose?”

“Who indeed?” Minerva agreed. “Remus, Filius, if the two of you can get the Book to begin giving us the names and addresses of all the current Hogwarts’ non-magicalborn, I’ll approach the Grangers and the Evans’ to see if they’d be willing to undertake this task for us.”

“What of the non-magicalborns who are due to start their magical education this coming September?” Remus asked.

“One problem at a time, I believe, and at the moment, with the Book here, they’re perfectly safe out there,” Minerva replied.

With nods of agreement, the three set to their tasks.

-oOoOo-

The mystery of how copies of _The Daily Prophet_ had found their way onto the tables of the Dining Room of Diricawl Academy wasn’t solved until Susan had the thought of asking one of the house elves.

Apparently, Nerri had noticed that people seemed to like reading the paper over their breakfast and, in the absence of the usual post owl delivery due to the increased wards around the island that kept all unknown owls out, had decided to go and fetch a stack of the papers herself. The little elf had assured Susan, Hannah and Neville that she’d been perfectly safe – no one had seen her; she’d simply left a small stack of coins in the place where she’d found the papers.

Consequently, the denizens of Diricawl Academy were able to get a different take on what was happening in the magical world. After all, prior to this, their only source of information was the Wizarding Wireless Network which, while useful, tended to shy away from reporting too much news, in favour of simply playing music and the ‘stories’ that a large portion of their audience loved.

“Look at this,” Neville said, slapping the paper in front of him. “They’ve got every part of the government under their control.”

_Wizengamot Disbanded – ‘No Longer Needed’ by Marcus Waynesbury_

_In an unprecedented move by a Minister for Magic, Delores Umbridge yesterday disbanded the Wizengamot of Great Britain._

_“In today’s climate, there is simply no need for a ruling body such as the Wizengamot,” Umbridge stated at a press conference. “The Ministry of Magic has every facet of government in hand – from creature regulation to magical travel, games and sports, education and its Auror office is quite capable of policing the nation.”_

“Death Eaters, more like,” Anthony stated grimly.

Nods around the table agreed with the sentiment before Neville continued reading.

_When asked what the procedure would be for those requiring trials or who would make the laws of the land, Madam Umbridge replied with the following:_

_“I am certain that the good witches and wizards of magical Britain have no need to worry about trial procedures, for they shall never encounter them. Any undesirable activity will be punished in strict accordance with the Laws of Magical Britain, a document that outlines every conceivable crime and the exact punishment that will be meted out to any miscreant.”_

_We at the Daily Prophet were provided with a copy of this document and can agree that it is very comprehensive._

_For an abridged list of crimes and their punishments, see pages three through eleven._

_“As to the question of who shall make any necessary Laws for Magical Britain,” Umbridge continued, “the answer is simple – our Lord and Master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”_

“Ugh, that’s enough, Nev, don’t read any more of that while I’m trying to eat,” Hannah pleaded.

“Pass it here, Neville,” Susan said.

As soon as he’d handed the paper over, Susan rustled through it, scanning the crimes and punishment pages.

“I can sum up most of these quite easily,” a grim Susan stated. “Do something wrong and you’ll either be sentenced to Azkaban …”

“I didn’t know that it’d been rebuilt,” Sally-Anne commented.

“They’re probably rushing to get it done ready to hold all of those opposed to Voldemort’s regime,” Lil replied.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Susan stated. “Only the ‘lighter’ crimes get punished by the person being sent there. Most of the big stuff, including attacking a pure-blood or anything that could be considered as ‘treason’ against the rightful government and You-Know-Who will either get you kissed or thrown through the veil.”

“Veil?” Lil asked.

“As in Veil of Death,” Neville answered. “It’s in the Department of Mysteries, I think. Gran’s told me stories about it. They used to use it to execute prisoners. Once someone goes into it, they never come back out again.”

“They can get away with this? Why isn’t anyone fighting back?” Hannah asked.

“Who’s going to fight back?” Susan asked. “They’ve got all the kids up at Hogwarts as hostages ensuring that no one fights back; no one wants to do anything that could get those kids hurt or worse.”

“And that’s why we’re going to rescue them,” Harry stated as he took a seat beside Neville.

“There’s a plan?” Neville asked excitedly.

“Unfortunately, not. At least, not yet, but we’re working on it,” Harry replied, reaching for some eggs and bacon. “There’s a meeting straight after breakfast to discuss exactly that. And I’m going to be there.”

“Can we come, too?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, we’ve all got friends there still,” Hannah agreed.

Harry looked around the table at all of the intense and hopeful looks being directed his way.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised.

-oOoOo-

“Out!” Master Auror Alastor Moody growled the instant that he saw the group in the doorway.

Harry, though, stood his ground and only the fact that he did so, stopped the ones that had automatically swayed away or taken a step backwards from fleeing from the grizzled man.

“No,” Harry replied firmly. “They have a stake in this, too.”

“This meeting is no place for children, Potter!” Moody retored.

“Most of them are older than me,” Harry retorted.

He didn’t say that in a lot of cases, it was only by a few months; nevertheless, the statement was true.

“Doesn’t matter. Albus insisted that you had an important role in all this, not that he ever explained _what_ that role was,” he added sotto voce, “but I’m not letting a bunch of school kids with mouths that don’t know when to stay shut into a meeting as sensitive as this.”

“And who are they going to tell, Mad-Eye? The owlery’s shut and there’s no way into or out of this island except through Chert or by using the hovercraft,” Harry stated. “And besides, they can help.”

“Help? Really?” Moody snorted. “How can a bunch of wet-nosed kids help us plan a mission this important?”

“When were you at Hogwarts, Mad-Eye? Sixty? Seventy years ago?” Harry asked before waving at the group behind him. “ _They_ were there a year ago or the year before that. _They_ know the castle better than you. I thought that it was good strategy to make decisions using the best up-to-date information available.”

A grunt was Moody’s only acknowledgement of the point.

“Besides, we all have friends there, we all want to get them out from under Riddle’s thumb and who knows what sort of ideas fresh, _young_ minds might come up with?” Harry finished.

“Fine. But they better prove useful and know when to keep their mouths shut,” Moody near-growled as he turned away.

He spun back though, piercing Harry with the foulest look imaginable when not only Harry’s year-mates came through the door, but also most of the adults as well. Harry simply gave the old auror a shrug and a lop-sided grin before taking Hermione’s hand and leading her across to one of the tables.

Finally, when everyone had taken a seat – the original group, the students and the parents, both magical and non-magical – Moody stood. He paced across the front of the room, his magical eye spinning even as he glowered at the ones that he still considered a ‘security risk’ simply for being in the room.

“Right. We all know why we’re here: to work out a way to get the kids out of Hogwarts so Riddle can’t use them to hold magical Britain hostage,” he stated.

“The teachers, too,” Minerva added from her seat.

“The teachers, too,” Moody echoed.

“But before we can decide on a plan to get them out, we need to work out how to get at least some of us _in_ ,” he continued. “And before anyone says something stupid, I do mean _some_ of us. A full-scale assault on the castle is simply suicide – for us and for those trapped inside.”

“A surgical strike team,” Dan commented.

Moody gave the man a confused look. “If that means a small force that’s going to infiltrate an enemy stronghold and cause some mayhem, then yes.”

Instantly, Moody’s head whipped around and both eyes fixed on the pair of red-heads that had sat up straight in their chairs, almost visibly vibrating with excitement.

“And no, I did _not_ mean the sort of mayhem that you two usually cause,” he growled.

“Why not?” Sirius asked. “A few good pranks could be perfect as a distraction.”

“That’s what I was saying, Mad-Eye; different perspectives to give us an edge,” Harry added.

“We’ll see,” Moody finally allowed.

“The first and biggest problem is the wards. Without a Dark Mark, we can’t get through them,” Kingsley stated.

“My men proved that,” Croaker added.

“What about people without magic? Could one of us get through?” Mike asked, gesturing to himself, Dan and Jack Creevey.

“No. That particular ward is looking to make sure that a person crossing that line has the correct magical signature. No signature and it’ll kill you outright, whether you’re magical or not,” Croaker replied.

“And the secret tunnels are out?” Sirius asked.

“We’ve been over this, Padfoot,” Remus sighed. “Wormtail knows them all and will have made sure that his buddies have warded them to hell and back.”

“What about flying? Could you fly over the top of the ward on a broom?” Emma asked.

Moody shook his head. “The ward’s not a wall that you can simply hop over. Think of it like a dome with the castle in the middle of it and the grounds spreading out to reach its edge.”

“No matter at what point a person tries to cross the ward – be it at ground level, ten metres up or from above the Astronomy Tower, the ward is there to stop that person from entering unless they carry the correct magical signature, in this case, a Dark Mark,” Croaker explained.

“Person. We all keep saying person,” Remus mused. “What about the centaurs? They live close to Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest. Does the ward keep them out as well?”

“None of my observers have seen a centaur even come close to the ward, let alone try to cross it,” Amelia stated, before adding thoughtfully, “though, there was a report of a thestral crossing the ward.”

“Could we contact the centaurs and see if they’ll help?” Filius asked.

Remus shook his head. “Won’t do any good. The herds have always stayed out of any wizarding conflict and even if they would help, I doubt any would risk themselves trying to cross that line.”

“What about the goblins?” Harry asked.

“Gringotts is closed and the goblins have gone to ground,” Amelia reported. “I’m actually surprised that Chert has remained on the island.”

“I will not dishonour myself by abandoning my post,” the goblin in question stated from where he stood beside the doors, his arms crossed over his chest, a long, sharp-looking dirk in each hand.

Suddenly, Sirius shot to his feet, his chair sliding backwards with a screech.

“I think I’ve got it,” he near-yelled. “Amelia said it before; we’ve all been saying it. Only _people_ with the Dark Mark can cross the ward line. Animals are fine. And I’m not always this ruggedly handsome fellow you see before you. I’ll be back.”

Then, before anyone could stop him, Sirius half-ran towards the door, changing into his animagus form of the great black grim before he was half-way there and quickly loping out of sight.

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, instantly realising what his godfather was about to do.

“Will it work? Will the his animagus form be able to cross the wards?” he asked panickily.

Unfortunately, none there could answer. Only time would tell if Harry would ever see his godfather alive again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Only one of them had no difficulty with the crossing; after all, in the dark of night, an airborne infiltrator wasn’t noticed, especially when they were such a small size and a very common sight above these grounds._

_The others, though, that was a different matter._

_The small ones, the ones who were closest to the ground, found it much easier to blend into the shadows. That didn’t mean that they simply waltzed across the long, long expanse of open ground. No, for them, it was a case of taking it in small stages, constantly pausing to look around and check that they were still unobserved._

_Crossing the clear grounds for the two largest of the group was a completely different cauldron of potion. Their longer legs were an asset in speed, but the plan called for stealth, not something that that particular two were well suited for. Well, except for their colouring, of course – one being black as midnight, the other, a deep brown._

_Slowly, one by one, the group worked their way across the grounds. It helped that they knew these lands so well. There were more times than they could count when one or all would have to freeze in place when the guards either wandered too close or were looking in their direction._

_It took over an hour and more than a few near close calls, but the great glass walls that they’d been aiming for were soon close enough to provide an extra boost of protection from unwanted eyes._

-oOoOo-

**Five and a half days previously …**

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see if that idiot comes back,” Mad-Eye Moody grumbled with a shake of his head. “If anyone else gets it into their head to rush off like a damn fool without back-up of any sort, don’t expect me to come rescue you.”

“Alastor!” Minerva hissed but the old auror simply rolled his magical eye in her direction for a fraction of a second before it continued roving over the room.

“Let’s assume the best,” Filius chirped from his special chair hovering to one side of the tables. “Sirius does have a point – that ward around Hogwarts has been designed to only allow people through them if they are carrying a Dark Mark. It is quite conceivable that there is a way through them for non-humans.”

“Or people in different forms,” Harry added hopefully.

It was obvious exactly what his godfather had gone to do: to test the ward by trying to cross it in his animagus form. Whether or not it’d work or simply kill him outright was anyone’s guess. Unfortunately, as far as Harry knew, there was no way to test for that sort of thing, other than the obvious, of course.

Beside him, Hermione reached across and grasped his hand, almost painfully hard as she gave him a look mingled with hope, reassurance and more than a touch of fear.

“It might work,” Moody allowed. “But then, it might not. And we need a sure-fire way to get past those wards if we want to have any chance of rescuing those kids. Unless we do, You-Know-Who’s won. So, until we know for sure either way, let’s assume that we need another plan. So, who’s got some suggestions?”

There was dead silence throughout the room then as everyone looked at each other, all hoping that someone had _something_.

“Remus mentioned something about secret tunnels?” Mike stated cautiously.

“Yeah. Can’t use ’em, though. The DEs’ll have them warded and guarded,” Moody grunted.

Mike shook his head. “No, I get that. What I was wondering was what if we made our own?”

“Not a bad idea, except for one major flaw: wizards are pants at digging in the ground,” Moody grouched.

“Human magicals abandoned that sort of magic centuries ago,” Croaker supplied. “Between the goblins and the dwarves, there was simply no point. Both of those species are a thousand times better at tunnelling and digging than we’d ever be.”

“Could we get some of them to dig a tunnel for us?” Mike persisted.

“Doubtful,” Amelia replied. “Both have gone to ground and I seriously doubt that they’ll resurface until it’s safe to do so.”

“Surely there’d be spells in the library that we could learn to do it ourselves?” Hermione half-stated, half-asked.

“Probably, lass, but how long will it take us to learn, not to mention the unknowns – how far down do the wards extend? How much noise would digging tunnels make? Where do we start one and where do we come up? There’s an awful lot of unknowns in all that,” Moody stated.

“I’d be willing to research it,” Croaker offered, “at the very least, it could make a possible ‘Plan B’.”

“Alright, you do that,” Moody nodded. “We’ll use that as a possibility in case we can’t think of anything else or if Black doesn’t come back.”

“Getting through the wards, though, that’s one thing,” Moody continued. “Moving around a castle full of Death Eaters, that’s trickier.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Harry piped up. “Not with this.”

Standing up, he pulled a piece of parchment from this pocket and moved across to a small table off to one side.

“Remus, can you project what’s on this table up onto the wall so that everyone can see it?” Harry asked.

“Should be easy, Harry,” Remus replied, standing and moving across to the small table beside Harry.

By the time that Remus had completed the spell, it was to see a blank piece of old, ratty parchment showing on the wall, easily big enough for everyone there to see it clearly. The tip of a wand appeared, touching the parchment as Harry murmured something and then lines of black ink appeared to quickly fill the map.

“The Marauders’ Map,” Harry said proudly. “This little beauty is not only a map of Hogwarts, it also has the ability to show exactly where everyone in the castle currently is.”

Everyone there stared at the enlarged map, taking in the details of the castle – all seven floors, the dungeons, greenhouses, owlery, the staff quarters and offices. And the myriad of black dots with tiny writing underneath them, showing the exact position of everyone in the castle.

“It’s as Dobby said, all of the students are contained within the four common rooms,” Amelia stated.

“Looks to be three guards at each common room entrance,” Shaklebolt added.

“And a bunch more DEs patrolling on every level,” Tonks added.

“The staff are all in their rooms, too,” Filius pointed out.

“Not all,” Minerva stated grimly. “Sybil’s in the dungeons instead of the North Tower.”

“Now _this_ is a useful tool,” Moody declared. “ _This_ will give us the edge.”

“I don’t see how,” Dan contradicted. “Even with this, there are still so many guards roaming about that anyone who goes in there is bound to be caught long before they even reach the ones guarding the kids.”

“Dan’s right,” Fred called. “We used the Map to get around after curfew for years; it’s not always easy and there are a lot more people to get around than just a few patrolling prefects and teachers.”

“Not to mention Riddle and his new Hogwarts’ Headmaster being in the castle as well,” Croaker stated, causing every eye to snap towards the Headmaster’s office where two dots – Tom Riddle and Severus Snape – were currently located.

“So, we’re going to need a way to move around without being seen,” Moody stated. “I’ve got an invisibility cloak and I hear that you’ve got one too, Potter. That’s a start. What else?”

“Disillusionment charms?” Filius suggested.

“We’ve made something called a ‘decoy detonator’ that could be useful,” George said. “Basically, you let it off and it scurries away before making a whole bunch of noise to cause people to look the wrong way.”

“And alert every damn Death Eater to your presence at the same time,” Moody snapped. “Might be useful in a pinch, but not for an infiltration mission like we’re planning.”

“The map shows everyone, regardless of their current status – human, ghost, or animagus,” Remus mused. “At least no one would be able to sneak up on us.”

Harry started, his head which had been lowered in thought, snapping up to stare at the old Marauder.

“That’s not quite true,” Harry stated. “Back in second year, the basilisk got around just fine without showing up on the map.”

“Which means that we’ll need to look out for Riddle’s pet snake,” Moody grouched.

“Yes,” Harry replied, while waving away the statement. “But that wasn’t what I was thinking about. Even if the basilisk did show up on the map, _it didn’t always move through the castle in the corridors_.”

Seeing the numerous blank and confused looks directed his way, Harry swivelled until he could lock eyes with Hermione. Then, ever so deliberately, he moved his hand until it was resting on his staff. Her sharp intake of breath told him that she got it and he smiled.

“The passageways,” she breathed.”

“Passageways? What passageways?” Minerva asked.

“Slytherin’s passageways,” Harry replied. “The passageways _inside the walls_ that run all throughout Hogwarts. They go everywhere. I’ve never explored them, but I remember seeing plenty of places where entrances were, _including inside the Gryffindor common room_.”

“And if they’re in one common room, it stands to reason that there are entrances to the passageways in _all_ of the common rooms,” Hermione stated.

“Exactly,” Harry smiled.

“If these passageways are as good as you say, then they could be our ticket around the castle without getting caught,” Moody said. “Good work, Potter.”

Harry held up one hand, forestalling any other comments.

“There’s just one thing,” he cautioned. “You need a parselmouth to open them.”

Moody stared hard at the teen, both eyes narrowed.

“Right. Looks like you’ve just volunteered for this mission,” the old auror stated.

“What? But he’s just a boy! It’s too dangerous for Harry to go!” Harry’s cousin Susan protested before subsiding as Mike’s hand came to rest on her arm.

“If we want to rescue those kids, we might not have any other choice,” Mike said gently.

“It’s alright, Susan,” Harry said to her. “I want to go. And if we’re in the passageways, then the only ones who could get in there to find us would be Riddle himself or his snake.”

“Exactly how is _that_ supposed to make us feel any better?” Molly Weasley asked, her voice rising to a near-shout.

“It cuts down on those who could discover us,” Moody stated forcefully. “Two instead of hundreds is much better odds; odds that I’ll take any day.”

“That may give the team that goes in a way to move around the castle and even a way to reach the children, but there’s still the small matter of getting _three hundred_ children out of the castle safely,” Minerva interrupted, heading off the potential argument. “Not to mention the staff as well.”

“Actually, Headmistress, it might,” Harry replied thoughtfully.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione asked, “How could those passageways help us rescue everyone?”

“Are you thinking that there could be a ‘back door’ out of Slytherin’s chambers somewhere? An unknown tunnel?” Remus asked.

“While that’s a possibility,” Harry replied. “That wasn’t what I was thinking of. It was actually the basilisk itself that I was thinking about. I know that after I killed it, we had the goblins come in and render it down before taking it away to sell. For the life of me, I can’t remember them carting sixty feet of basilisk away through the castle corridors.”

“That’s because they didn’t,” Minerva replied.

“Then how’d they get it out?” Harry asked.

“They simply port … they … simply … portkeyed … it … out … directly … from … the … Chamber of Secrets,” Minerva replied slowly as comprehension dawned.

“Ha! Well done, lad,” Moody cried, slapping his knee. “You’ve just given us a way out. Maybe a way in as well. Obviously, the castle wards don’t extend that far underground.”

“I don’t believe that we can use portkeys to get in,” Croaker stated. “In order to make a portkey, you need to know the precise location that you want to arrive in. Unless one of you knows _for certain_ exactly where the Chamber of Secrets is?”

Unfortunately, multiple headshakes were his only reply.

“Shame, but can’t be helped,” Moody said. “But at least we now have a way to get people out: we simply take a bunch of pre-prepared portkeys with us and have everyone portkey directly from the Chamber back here.”

“And what do you propose that we do with all of the children, then?” Filius asked. “Ynys Crochenydd simply cannot house that many.”

“Leave that to me,” Cyrus Greengrass replied from his corner where he had been busy scribbling away with parchment and pen.

“Right then, we will,” Moody stated.

Any further comment that he was about to make was interrupted by the appearance of an enormous black grim skittering in through the doors. Without pausing, Sirius switched from his running gait on four legs to two.

“Sirius!” Harry cried, jumping from his seat and racing across the room. “You’re alright!”

“’Course I am, Pup,” Sirius grinned as Harry flung himself in his arms.

After a quick hug, Harry pulled back and thumped his godfather in the chest.

“Don’t do that again! You nearly scared me to death running off like that, especially when I realised what you were about to do,” Harry practically growled.

“Sorry, Pup, guess I wasn’t thinking,” Sirius replied, only slightly abashed. “But you have to admit that there was no other way to test the theory.”

“I take it you were successful, Padfoot?” Remus asked.

Sirius looked up to see everyone hanging on the answer to that very question.

“You got that right,” Sirius replied with a roguish grin. “They’ve set the wards to detect people with or without the Dark Mark, but _only_ people in human form; it doesn’t affect animagi at all. It was nothing to step over the wards, backwards and forwards half a dozen times as Padfoot.”

“I’m hoping that you weren’t so stupid as to be seen as you were rushing off like that without back-up,” Moody grumbled.

“No worries, Mad-Eye,” Sirius replied. “I wasn’t seen; they had no idea that I was there.”

“That’s something. Not that it really helps all that much,” Moody replied.

“What do you mean? Of course, it’s helpful! It gives us a way in,” Sirius argued.

“No. It doesn’t,” Moody countered. “That way in’s only good for animagi.”

“You did say that you only wanted a small group to go in,” Remus countered.

“Small as in half a dozen, maybe eight at most. Anything less than that would be useless in terms of reaching all of the kids before we’re discovered,” Moody stated. “And last I countered, we only had two animagi here. Sorry, _three_ if you count Potter, which we’d better since we need his parseltongue skills anyway.”

“You’re just grouchy ’cause you can’t go, too,” Sirius grinned.

“Um, excuse me?”

Heads, including those currently involved in the argument, swivelled to the nervous-looking boy with his hand half-raised.

“What, Longbottom?” Moody snapped.

“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong,” Neville managed to say, his voice hitching as he looked at the grizzled ex-auror.

“Wrong? About what?” Moody growled.

“About there only being three animagi here,” Neville replied. “There’s seven.”

“Seven?” Moody repeated, confusion clear on his face and in his voice.

“Now is not the time, Mister Longbottom,” Headmistress McGonagall stated. “Neither you nor the other three have finished mastering the animagi process.”

“We’ve been working at it non-stop this past week, Professor,” Daphne stated. “Give us another week and I’m sure that we’ll have it down.”

“Who are these others?” Moody asked suspiciously.

When not only Neville and Daphne raised their hands, but also Hermione and Luna, Moody simply gaped at them before laughing at them.

“You kids think you’re up for infiltrating a Death Eater stronghold filled with the most dangerous witches and wizards of society, not to mention whatever dark creatures You-Know-Who has managed to gather? You’re barking, the lot of you! There’s no way that I’d send a bunch of untrained kids into a situation like that,” Moody stated emphatically.

“If we want to rescue the students and teachers at Hogwarts, we might not have a choice,” Harry countered. “And besides, I thought that the whole point of the mission was to get in and get out again without encountering a single enemy.”

“No plan ever goes perfectly,” Moody stated.

“And you can think again if you believe that we’ll let you go into that sort of situation in the first place, Hermione,” Dan stated.

“I think that all of the parents are in agreement with that sentiment,” Lady Longbottom said with an emphatic nod of her regal head.

“But this could be the only way to save them,” Daphne countered.

“The longer we leave it until we rescue them, the more entrenched Tom will get in his victory,” Harry added. “It’s our one chance.”

“This argument is moot, anyway,” Minerva interrupted. “Neither Mister Longbottom nor Misses Granger, Greengrass or Lovegood are capable of completely transforming into their animal forms on command with any fluidity or in a timely manner. Without that ability, there is no way that they could join this mission.”

“Well unless we can find another way, that means that it’s down to me, Minerva and Harry to pull this off,” Sirius stated.

“We’ve got the basics of a plan, now, not that I like it one bit,” Moody said, “but it’s a start. Let’s see what we can do to flesh it out.”

As the adults continued talking, Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand before catching Neville’s, Daphne’s and Luna’s eyes. A sharp jerk of his head had the five pushing away from the table and quickly taking their leave of the Dining Room.

Almost automatically, they crossed the Entrance Hall before heading to the second floor of the classroom wing and entering the room that they’d been using all year for their animagus lessons.

“You’ve been practicing all week?” Harry questioned after closing the door behind them.

“Yeah,” Neville replied. “With the war heating up the way it is, we figured that we’d better get this done in case we ever needed it for something important.”

“And it seems that we were right,” Daphne added.

“Assuming that our parents allow us to help,” said Hermione, her bottom lip caught in her teeth as she contemplated going against her parents’ wishes.

“I doubt that I’ll be allowed to go, being younger than all of you,” Luna said, “but I can help make sure that the rest of you are as ready as you can be.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry replied at the blonde girl. “But I think that it’s important that _all_ of you get this down as quickly as you can. Now, who’s going to show me how far you’ve gotten first?”

“I will, Harry,” Neville replied before screwing up his face in intense concentration.


	4. Chapter 4

_A soft_ wuff _signalled the group that the coast was clear. But even with that, it still took a couple of minutes for each of the menagerie to perform their own checks before, one by one, they merged from one form to another._

_The straps of the backpack that the largest of them wore magically resized themselves so that the smaller form now wearing the pack was comfortable doing so. The pack itself never changed, maintaining its size and position on its wearer’s back; indeed, it was charmed so that it_ couldn’t _change size, after all, doing so would damage the precious cargo it held._

_A small hand gesture, barely seen in the deep gloom of the shadows of the castle walls indicated that the others were to follow the oldest of them all. Unerringly, she led them the ten or so metres to the corner, along the wall of the courtyard, before slipping behind one particular statue._

_A sharp rap of her wand on one particular stone caused the very stones of the castle to melt into their counterparts leaving a hole in the castle wall just wide enough for a single person to walk through. One by one, the group slipped inside until the last, the one with the pack and coincidentally the member of the group who had used the passage the most, closed the hidden door behind himself._

_They’d each studied the map carefully, so all knew exactly where this particular passage would come out – right near the Hufflepuff common room. Thankfully, though, it was just far enough away from and around a bend in the corridor from where they knew that the Death Eater guards would be stationed._

_At the end of the passageway, they paused, looking carefully through the wall that wasn’t, safe in the knowledge that none could see them even if they were staring right at the wall that they hid behind._

_Objective one was completed: they’d infiltrated the castle without being detected._

-oOoOo-

**Three days previously …**

Cyrus Greengrass frowned through the one-way mirror looking into the Receiving Room of Diricawl Academy. That room was the only point where the wards would allow travel either to or from the island. Currently, though, those very same wards had just activated, sealing off the inhabitants from the outside world, the inhabitants and the group of what looked to be Ministry aurors who’d just arrived unannounced.

This, of course, was a major problem for Cyrus. Not only was it a case that, once again, the island was under at least some form of attack, but also that Cyrus was stuck where he was for the foreseeable future. And he _desperately_ needed off the island.

The plan to rescue the staff and students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was well underway. But a major component of that plan was what to do with all of those extra mouths and bodies once they’d been brought to the island (Cyrus simply would not allow even the thought of failure to enter his mind). And the answer to that problem was his to solve; at least, he’d promised to solve it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do so from the island – he needed off to meet his contacts face to face to set events in motion. And the longer he was trapped here, the less likely it’d be that he’d have everything ready and in place for when the kids started arriving.

“We know that you can hear us!” one of the eight wizards in deep crimson robes yelled at a seemingly indiscriminate part of the wall. “We are Ministry of Magic aurors. We demand that you allow us entrance and surrender yourselves to Ministry justice.”

A contemptuous snort from beside Cyrus told him Chert’s opinion of that statement, a belief that Cyrus himself wholeheartedly agreed with.

Thankfully, neither of the two had to decide how to deal with the Ministry contingent. No, that honour went to the woman who came striding into the Security Office, followed by a contingent of witches and wizards wearing identical robes to the ones who’d just portkeyed onto the island.

Madam Amelia Bones, the (former) Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, merely nodded to both Cyrus and Chert before coming to stand in front of the window. Her legs were wide, as though to brace herself against a storm, even as her arms were severely crossed across her body. Her expression was as hard as granite and the way that her she was frowning caused the edge of her monocle to nearly disappear into the skin around her eye socket.

“Dawlish,” she growled. “Should have known that he’d thrown in with those flobberworm-eating scum; he always was a bigger idiot than most.”

Cyrus glanced at the ex-aurors flanking their boss. Every one of them shared the same sort of look at their ex-colleagues – one of contemptuousness.

Without bothering to consult anyone, Amelia tapped the crystal beside the mirror, opening up communications with the other room.

“What do you want, Dawlish?” she snapped.

“Bones,” the auror snarled as he turned towards the wall containing the mirror. “Knew you were here with these traitors.”

“And you’re a disgrace to your badge,” Amelia retorted. “I repeat, what do you want?”

“As the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, acting on orders issued by the Minister of Magic on behalf of Lord Voldemort,” Dawlish recited officiously, “you and everyone on this island are ordered to surrender. This school is disbanded and the land upon which it stood has been confiscated by the Ministry. Every witch, wizard and … _other being_ … here will be tried and punished accordingly.”

Cyrus took careful note that Amelia’s facial expression, nor her body posture, didn’t change even the smallest amount to this pronouncement.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“That will do for a start,” Dawlish replied pompously.

It was only then that Amelia moved, giving a single nod before stepping forward and picking up one of the lengths of rope from the bin that held them, ready to be turned into portkeys for those wishing to leave the island. A single tap of her wand to the rope was given before she moved across to the draw that could be used to transfer items from one room to the other without having the door opened or exposing the island’s security staff to undue hazard.

“In order for you to leave the room that you are in, you’ll all need to be holding the rope,” Amelia stated.

Cyrus could only gape at her before his senses returned. One didn’t need to hold a rope to leave the room; obviously Amelia was up to something. Cyrus watched as one of the aurors retrieved said rope and brought it to the cluster of his teammates.

“We have placed our wands on the ground.” Amelia stated, a fact that was completely untrue. “All you need to do is make sure that everyone is holding the rope and say ‘enter’ to lower the protections around the room.”

Obviously, Chert caught on to her plan, for he instantly stepped forward and held his hand over the great crystal that controlled the wards, his hand and long fingers glowing with power as he channelled some goblin magic into the crystal.

“Enter!” Dawlish said around the menacing smile that he was sporting.

Instantly, the group of eight Ministry aurors disappeared in a flash of light, portkeyed straight off of the island.

“Idiots,” Amelia stated with a resigned shake of her head.

“Where’d you send them?” Cyrus couldn’t help but ask.

“Azkaban,” Ameilia stated ferally.

Cyrus couldn’t help but laugh. While the island prison still hadn’t been rebuilt after the Dark Lord had torn it down, its wards _had_ been replaced – after all, no one wanted the muggles to accidentally stumble across it. And with those wards in place, it’d take the group quite a while to return to the Ministry to report their failure.

“In that case, I’m going to take my own portkey,” Cyrus stated. “There are people that I need to see if I want to get everything ready for when the Hogwarts students arrive.”

“Be safe, Cyrus, your name is high on the list of those that Voldemort and his Ministry are after,” Amelia warned.

“Don’t worry,” Cyrus replied as he enchanted his own portkey. “I won’t be going anywhere near anyone magical.”

-oOoOo-

“I must say, it’s one thing to know that magical folk have the ability to change into animals, and I know that I’ve seen Harry and Sirius do it, but it’s a completely different thing to watch your own _daughter_ do it,” Dan muttered as he shook his head.

The process was slow, but still very remarkable. First Hermione’s hair changed from its chestnut curls to a deep red before shortening and spreading over her entire body. Her face was the next to change, her nose lengthening and elongating into a snout. It was only then, as her hands and feet began to change into paws, that she began to shrink. By the time that fox-Hermione had shrunk to the correct size, did she drop onto her four paws. The very last change, accompanied by an all-over body shake, was the emergence of a long, bushy tail.

“I’m just glad that she’s wearing a leotard,” Emma commented, eyeing the pile of clothes that hadn’t transformed with her daughter. “At least her magic can accommodate some sort of clothing.”

“Indeed,” Dan agreed solemnly, his eyes straying to his daughter’s boyfriend standing off to one side with a happy grin on his face.

“The fact that not just Hermione but all of them, can already transform with some clothing is extremely encouraging and somewhat astounding,” Minerva commented from beside them. “I’ve never seen progress with the animagus transformation like this before.”

“It’s what comes with some extra motivation,” Sirius said. “I know that when James and I were learning this back when we were their age, we pushed ourselves pretty hard to get our animagus forms down as quickly as we could so that we could go out and help Moony with his furry little problem. Mind you, we didn’t advance as quickly these four, but then again, we weren’t working on it nearly every waking moment of the day, either.”

And that was what it came down to – the fact that Hermione, Neville, Daphne and Luna were all determined to be able to transform into and out of their animagus forms as quickly as possible so that they could go on the mission to help rescue their friends trapped in Hogwarts Castle. Whether or not they’d be _allowed_ to go was a completely different story, one that was supposed to be answered by the gathered group of parents.

Before they’d even entered the room, there had been some quiet conversations between the Grangers, Penelope Greengrass, Augusta Longbottom and Xenophilius Lovegood. All were vehemently opposed to sending their children into the enemy’s territory, even if it was in a good cause. The fact that the only way the children would be able to go was if they could complete their animagus transformations and do so in a timely manner was considered a bonus; after all, none expected that the four would have made as much progress as they had in such a short amount of time.

As the fox that was Hermione finished transforming, she opened her eyes and looked up at the gathered adults. The pleased ‘I told you so’ look in her expressive brown eyes was clear for all to see. Dan and Emma weren’t the only ones to sigh seeing that expression.

The process of reversing the transformation back into a teen girl seemed to go a touch quicker and in less than two minutes, Hermione was bending to pick up her shirt and jeans and to put them on over her leotard.

“As you can see,” she said as she moved to join her fellow teen animagi, “we can all transform at will.”

“While true, Miss Granger,” Minerva replied, “none of your transformations, with the exception of Mister Potter’s, of course, are anywhere near fast enough to be useful in a tense situation.”

“We’ve all improved immensely even in just this past week,” Daphne stated, waving off the criticism. “A week ago, it was taking us nearly ten minutes to make the transformation; now we can all do it in under two. By the time that we leave for Hogwarts, we’ll be ready.”

And there was the challenge, thrown down like a gauntlet.

Indeed, the entire room was set in a manner that invited confrontation. The four teens – Hermione, Daphne, Neville and Luna – stood on one side of the room with their parents (minus Daphne’s father, Cyrus), arranged on the other. Minerva currently stood with the adults, while Sirius had taken a neutral stance, his position more akin to the point of a third side than anything else. As for Harry, while he could be seen to be trying to be remaining out of the argument, the fact that he stood closer to his friends than anything else showed where his loyalties truly lay.

“And what makes you think that you’ll be joining the others in the attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts?” Penelope asked with a raised eyebrow.

Daphne gave her mother a nonplussed look.

“Simple logic,” she replied. “Only animagi can get through the wards surrounding the castle. Yes, I do concede that there may be other ways, but this way is known and is the one that will be acted upon if we want to have any chance of rescuing our friends before the Dark Lord can do anything too harmful to them. Three animagi is not enough; we _need_ to go too. We’re the only ones who can.”

“Harry is going, and he is younger than most of us, so age is not a factor,” Luna stated.

“The only reason Harry has been included without argument is because he can speak parseltongue and that’ll be needed to get into the tunnels where we can’t be followed. At least, not easily,” Sirius interjected.

“Harry is older than you, Poppet,” Xenophilius pointed out.

“I know, Daddy,” Luna said.

Her bright, blue eyes met the matching ones of her father’s and the two seemed to have a silent conversation before Luna visibly wilted.

“I understand, Daddy,” Luna sighed. “That doesn’t mean that I like it, though.”

“Thank you, Petal; you have taken a weight from my mind,” Xenophilius smiled slightly.

Before any of the other parents could put their foot down and forbid their children from going, Neville stepped forward slightly, his eyes on his grandmother and his chin raised defiantly.

“I’m going, Gran,” he stated emphatically. “I’m just over a year away from my majority and becoming the Longbottom of Longbottoms. I’ve already taken my OWLs and, while I may still have things to learn, I’m ready to take my place in the world. _This_ is the right thing to do; I need to do it. I will be doing it.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times as though he was determining what else to say, but in the end, he simply ended with a small nod before staring down his grandmother.

Augusta Longbottom, the Dowager Longbottom, stared incredulously at her grandson for over a minute before returning his nod with one of her own.

“Your father would be proud,” she said, “you’re becoming the man both he and I always envisioned that you would be. And when has a Potter ever gone into battle without a Longbottom at his side? Or a Longbottom without a Potter by his side? It is as it should be, the old alliance is being honoured.”

“I’d be honoured to have Neville by my side,” Harry said as he strode across to stand beside his mate, his hand resting on Neville’s shoulder. “And to be honest, it wouldn’t feel right to go without him, without all of them, in fact.”

“I’m going, too, Mum, Dad,” Hermione stated.

It was easy to see that Hermione’d decided to plant her feet into the decision through the defiant expression on her face and her crossed arms. An identical expression formed on Emma’s face and Dan’s face started to darken as the three Grangers stared across the room from each other, each trying to make the other submit through the staring contest.

“It is important that I join the group,” Daphne said to her mother. “If we want to have any chance of convincing the Slytherins that we mean them no harm and that there is another way other than joining the Dark Lord, then there needs to be a Slytherin making the offer. And while I haven’t been at the school for a year, I was still in Slytherin House for four years, that will carry weight.”

“Your Father expected that your animagus skill would be less than it is,” Penelope stated. “That was the only reason that he left when he did instead of being here to make this decision.”

“Father is preparing for the influx of students and teachers that he expects will be rescued from the castle,” Daphne replied. “I can do no less than my part to ensure that those same students and teachers will be here to receive his help.”

Dan, seeing Penelope wavering, knew how this meeting was going to end: with his daughter riding off into danger, into the heart of the enemy stronghold, with or without his permission. And there was simply nothing that he could do about it, short of tying her down and he suspected that she’d just magic herself free, go do it anyway and then not talk to him for some untold number of years.

His eyes switched across to the dark haired boy that he’d come to see as a surrogate part of the family.

“You’ll keep her safe?” he asked.

Before Harry could reply, Hermione nearly growled a response.

“We’ll keep _each other_ safe! We’ll all be watching each other’s backs.”

In the end, all Dan could do was sigh and place a (hopefully) calming hand on Emma’s shoulder. It was better to let her go now and pray she came back than to hold on too tight and to lose her forever in the process. After looking up into his face, Emma, too, gave a resigned sigh, one that was echoed by Penelope standing beside her.

Seeing the tacit permission for what it was, the two girls flew across the room to hug their mothers. Neville, too, embraced his grandmother, quietly assuring her that he’d be careful. Only Luna looked sad, having conceded to her father’s wishes to stay behind.

“I hate to be a wet blanket,” Minerva said, catching all of their attentions, “but even with the progress you’ve made, you’re still not ready. In the heat of the moment, being able to transform nearly instantaneously could save your lives.”

“How fast?” Neville asked. “How fast do we have to be?”

Minerva shared a look with Sirius before answering.

“Less than thirty seconds,” she replied. “Anything longer than that and it simply won’t be safe enough to have you go with us.”

“Come on, guys, you’ve got work to do,” Harry said,

As Hermione, Daphne, and Neville moved back across the room, Harry eyed the youngest of them all.

“You, too, Luna. You’re already faster than they are; give them a challenge and get there before they do,” Harry said.

With a smile, Luna skipped across the room, her features already beginning to blur as she did so.


	5. Chapter 5

_The youngest of them all led; after all, he knew best where they were going. In his hand was the old, ratty piece of parchment, a device that he constantly checked to ensure the way was clear. As an added precaution, at his side, padded a black grim, his nose constantly up in the air and swinging from side to side._

_His hand snapped out low behind him, his palm straight. Instantly, the group froze._

_Intense green eyes stared at the moving black dot before his brows furrowed. A quick look up and around located exactly what was needed. A single hand motion had the group swiftly backtracking a dozen metres before one by one, they slipped in through a door. As the last of them entered, he made sure to close the door behind himself so slowly and carefully that the_ click _of the latch falling into place could only be heard if one strained their ears._

_Footsteps sounded loud from the other side of the door. Two pairs, by the sound of it. Gradually, the sound increased in volume before, after being loudest just outside the door, they began to fade._

_The youngest waited until long after the footsteps had disappeared before leading the group back out into the corridor and resuming their previous direction._

_Twice more they needed to pause for patrolling guards, but neither time were they required to hide – the guards’ route taking them close to but ultimately away from where they were flattened against the wall._

_Finally, after a long, circuitous route, the group reached the end of their final corridor, their destination now in sight._

_Taking one last look at the parchment, the youngest gave the tiniest of nods before folding it up and slipping it into his back pocket. Then, hunched over to make himself as small as possible, he quickstepped across the open floor. Even knowing that the coast was clear, he couldn’t help but look up past the great staircase to the levels above._

_Turning himself sidewards, he slipped in behind the suit of armour, frowning in consternation – he was sure that there’d been more room than this? Unperturbed, he continued, opening the small, all-but-hidden door his hand automatically found there and slipped inside._

_One by one, he was followed until the last of the group was in, albeit, squished nearly on top of each other in the cramped space._

_With the door shut, it was considered safe to light the tip of a wand, but only a single one and at that, the one farthest from the door._

_A hiss, somewhat like a snake, preceded the group disappearing into where none could follow._

_Objective Two complete._

-oOoOo-

**Twenty-one hours earlier …**

“Assuming that the infiltration team can cross the grounds without being seen, what’s the best way into the castle?” Amelia asked.

From two places over, Minerva reached out a hand and tapped a section of wall in a courtyard not far from the greenhouses.

“Here,” she stated. “There’s a small passage here, not well known or utilised at all. And best of all, it’s so cleverly disguised that one can stand in it and look out through the wall without anyone being the wiser. Magic has made the wall so that it can only be seen through one-way.”

Heads around the table nodded. There were seven of them standing around the small table, the Marauder’s Map open on the table for all to see while they planned.

“Good. Being able to survey the terrain before entering is a tactical advantage,” Mad-Eye Moody grunted. “But what about these secret passageways in the walls that you were talking about, Potter?”

Harry frowned, his eyes not leaving the Map even as they darted all over it. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

“I know that they’re there, just not exactly _where_ they are,” he grumbled.

“How are they marked, Pup?” Sirius asked.

“Snakes. There’s tiny etchings of a snake in unobtrusive places on the walls to mark the entrances,” Harry replied.

“Do you remember which corridors you saw them in?” Sirius asked.

Once again, Harry frowned at the map.

‘Here and here for sure,” he said, indicating a corridor on the third floor and another on the fifth, before hesitatingly pointing to a spot on the sixth floor. “Here, too, I think.”

“Useless,” Moody grunted. “Getting into the castle’s going to be difficult enough without having to get up three or four floors before you even start _looking_ for the Merlin-be-damned things.”

“There’s no others you remember the location of, Mister Potter? None on the ground floor at all?” Minerva asked.

He started to shake his head before he suddenly froze.

“Actually, there is. Or at least, I think there is. I vaguely remember seeing a snake etching once,” he said. “Here. There’s one in a small cupboard behind a suit of armour directly under the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower.”

“There’s a cupboard there?” Sirius asked, peering at the spot.

“Yep. I, uh, I spent a bit of time in it back in first year. It was a spot where I could be alone, escape the crowds wanting to stare at my scar,” he explained in a rush.

“Whatever the reason for it, it’ll work,” Moody grunted. “What about the guards? Any patterns showing up?”

Remus nodded. “Actually, yes. Even with the kids locked in their House common rooms and dorms, guards still patrol the corridors, but their movements are fairly predictable. The best time to move would be between midnight and four in the morning, there seems to be less guards at that time.”

“Good. A night time infiltration was always going to be the plan,” Moody nodded. “Keep monitoring; we don’t want there to be any surprises.”

“Will do,” Remus promised.

“Now, once you’re in, what do you have in mind?” Moody asked.

Sirius and Minerva shared a look before, with a gesture, Sirius invited the Headmistress to answer.

“Well, we thought that it’d be best if we …”

-oOoOo-

Filius centred himself, closed his eyes and channelled his magic. The length of rope in his hands glowed blue for a brief moment before disappearing. With a smile of satisfaction, he opened his eyes and directed his hovering chair across to the table where all of the other ropes that had already been charmed were being placed and dropped the rope on top.

“This is the last of them,” Mike grunted as he upended a box, dumping a slew of skipping ropes on top of the few remaining pieces of rope that had yet to be charmed.

“That should be more than enough,” Filius replied. “Thank you.”

“This’ll work? These’ll bring all those kids and teachers here?” Mike asked.

Filius smiled patiently at the non-magical.

“They will. Whoever is touching the rope when it is activated will be portkeyed directly to the island,” he explained once again.

“Assuming that they’re not marked with one of those foul Dark Marks,” Croaker added from the shadows where he’d been watching over proceedings.

“You know, you could help instead of just standing there,” Filius stated. “Creating portkeys is quite draining.”

The smallest of nods accompanied the Unspeakable moving to cross the room.

“What’ll happen to anyone who is marked if they try to portkey here?” Mike asked.

“They’ll be bounced off the wards,” Croaker stated bluntly. “Could end up anywhere.”

“Hopefully none of the kids have taken that foul magic,” Filius sighed as he picked up the next rope.

“I’m certain you know that none of these can have any other charms applied to them once they’ve been turned into portkeys?” Croaker asked.

“Teach your grandmother,” Filius retorted. “I’ve charmed that pack to hold them. Automatic resizing of the straps of the pack itself and an undetectable extension charm.”

“That’ll do it,” Crocker agreed.

Mike couldn’t help but to pick up the pack in question and open it. His eyes widened as he stuck his hand inside, then his arm, all the way up to his shoulder without feeling the bottom, something that shouldn’t be possible judging by the way the thing looked.

“Magic is really cool,” he grinned.

-oOoOo-

“Twenty-eight seconds,” Minerva announced, having clicked the button on the round stop watch. She looked up at the teens in front of her, all eager eyed, waiting for her verdict and couldn’t help but allow the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards. “You have all achieved the required speed to be classed as full animagi.”

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed as he rushed forward towards his four beaming friends.

Hermione and Daphne gave identical excited squeals before turning and hugging each other. Luna was bouncing lightly on he feet, happily clapping away. And Neville gave a great sigh of relief before slapping his hand against Harry’s in a high five; he’d been the most worried of them all, having constantly been the slowest, meaning that he was most in danger of not making the cut to go on the mission.

“Congrats, guys!” Sirius beamed as he stepped forward. “You’ve done it; you’re fully fledged animagi. Now there’s just one more thing you need before you’re really ready to go.”

“What’s that?” Hermione asked, sharing a worried look with Harry.

For his part, though, Harry simply grinned back before stepping across to join Minerva, Sirius and Remus.

“A Marauder name,” Sirius stated seriously.

Instantly, the faces of the four morphed in expressions of pure expectation.

“Mister Padfoot requests the honour of naming the first of these new sisters and brother.”

“Mister Moony agrees with the proviso that Mister Padfoot contain himself to the names that have already been decided upon by his fellow Marauders.”

“Mister Tavi wholeheartedly agrees with Mister Moony and requests the honour of going second.”

For a fraction of a second, Minerva closed her eyes in what could be considered a silent prayer before opening them.

“Miss Felicity requests you get on with it.”

Padfoot grinned at her before taking half a step forward.

“Daphne,” he intoned. “In recognition of your achievement and after due consideration and much discussion, you are hereby dubbed: Firebrow.”

Daphne frowned at him. “Firebrow? What sort of name is that?”

“I strongly recommend that you take it, Miss Greengrass,” Moony stated. “You’re a great _horned_ owl. You can’t _imagine_ some of the names that Padfoot here was throwing out for you to be called, all of which, I might add, were _highly_ inappropriate.”

“And it does fit, Daphne,” Tavi added. “Those feathers that look like eyebrows give you the impression of being incredibly angry or intense and very, very fierce.”

Daphne seemed to give it a moment’s thought before dropping her head in a small bow of acknowledgement.

“Miss Firebrow accepts her new name and thanks those with sensible heads for reining in the immaturity of Mister Padfoot.”

“Hey!” an indignant Padfoot protested.

“Can’t argue with Miss Firebrow when she only speaks the truth,” Tavi replied offhandedly before turning to face his girlfriend, his eyes shining brightly as he looked at her.

“Hermione. After due consideration of the attributes of your Animagus form, you shall henceforth be known as: Brushtail.”

“Miss Brushtail thanks Mister Tavi and acknowledges that it could have been worse,” she replied.

The two grinned at each other and were only interrupted when Mister Moony loudly cleared his throat. With a start, Tavi took a quick step back, allowing Mister Moony to take his place.

“There was much discussion between us as to your new name, Neville. A black bear offered many opportunities, some better than others,” here Mister Moony paused to dart a glance at Padfoot. “In the end, in recognition of the fact that your fur is without blemish, you are hereby dubbed: Midnight.”

“Mister Midnght accepts his new name and would like to point out that he intended on sitting on the one who came up with a name that he didn’t like.”

Sirius gave an audible gulp. All had seen how large Neville could become and with that much weight behind him, he was easily the strongest of them all.

When Miss Felicity realised that Messrs Padfoot, Moony and Tavi were all staring at her expectantly, she took her place in front of the teens, and most specifically, in front of the eager Luna who was once again slightly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Miss Felicity has the honour of bestowing on you the name of ‘Bill’,” she stated succinctly.

Luna cocked her head to the side as she considered her new name.

“A rather common name for quite an uncommon creature and one that emphasises one of my defining characteristics,” she stated. “Miss Bill accepts her new name with joy.”

And with that, she bounced forward and gave Miss Felicity a great hug before moving on to hug each of the other three as well.

That was the cue for all of the new animagi to rush forward. Laughter and hugs from humans, quickly turned into a slew of different sounds as a fox and mongoose cavorted about each other; a black bear and a grim tussled while a platypus waddled about and a great horned owl and a tabby cat sat high out of the way, peering down at the antics below.

They had only been at play for a short time before the noise brought the curious to the door.

“You know, brother mine,” Fred said from where the two stood near the back of the gathered crowd, using their lanky height to see over shorter heads.

“We really must get a move on,” George agreed.

“Can’t let the young’uns have all that fun without us,” Fred finished.

In front of them, Hannah nudged Susan.

“That’ll be us in a few more months,” she said.

“Maybe a little more than a few,” Susan sighed. “But definitely not too much longer.”

“I wish I had a few Animagus aurors,” Amelia sighed as her eyes followed the animals at play. “It simply doesn’t sit right sending kids off on this mission without some serious backup.”

“Sorry, Boss,” Tonks replied, having heard her. “I’ll get right on that. Might take a couple of years ’til I’m ready though.”

Amelia simply gave the young auror a pat on the shoulder in reply, before stepping forward into the room. She looked around at the various animals, none of whom seemed to have noticed her, although she suspected that the owl and cat probably had and simply hadn’t acknowledged her yet.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” she asked in a raised voice.

Instantly, the menagerie stilled, all heads swivelling towards her.

“If you could return to being human?” she asked.

The scene before her changed as animals turned back into their human counterparts. Minerva, as one would expect, was the most graceful, changing midleap to the ground to come to stand not far away. Neville and Sirius emerged lying next to each other on the ground while Harry and Hermione appeared in a tangle of limbs, a sight that provoked the sound of snickering from the doorway.

“Considering how soon you are to leave,” Amelia began, “it is imperative that you are able to communicate with each other in the event that you become separated and also with us to report on how your mission is going.”

“You all know how to create a patronus,” Remus stated, taking over and switching into professor mode. “As well as being the only known defence against dementors and lethifolds, the patronus charm has one other use: it can be used to convey messages.”

With all eyes on him, Remus strode across to the far side of the room.

“Let me demonstrate,” he stated, before bringing his wand up. “ _Expecto Patronum_.”

Instantly, a glowing silver wolf appeared, leaping from his wand before slinking forward, its head swivelling backward and forward even as it appeared to be sniffing the air, intent on finding danger. Then, having detected nothing, it turned back towards its caster.

“Take his message to Amelia Bones,” Remus instructed it. “‘This is a demonstration messenger patronus’.”

Then, after a short nod of its head, the ghostly wolf leapt across the room to Amelia before stopping in front of her and the message that Remus had just given it was repeated in his voice.

“As you can see and as you heard, the messenger patronus can find the person that you know and deliver a message to them in your voice,” Remus said.

“Is there a distance limitation?” Hermione asked.

“Several hundred kilometres at least, depending on the caster,” Remus replied. “The stronger the magic pumped into the spell, the further it will go.”

“So, we just cast our patronus and then give it the message and off it goes?” Harry asked.

“Not quite. There is an added component when you cast your patronus,” Remus replied. “When you cast, you must be concentrating on the person to whom you wish to send the message and also have in mind that you wish to send that person a message. Being a patronus, though, will mean that the greatest part of the spell is still in the defence against dementors and lethifolds, as you witnessed when I cast a few minutes ago. Your patronus will search for danger against those threats before being ready for your message.

“Keep your messages short,” Amelia added. “The longer the message, the more garbled it can become, especially over long distances.”

Noticing the students in the doorway, Remus gestured them in.

“You might as well learn this, too,” he said. “It’s not an overly hard variation and shouldn’t take too much to learn.”

“Right. Half of you with me,” Amelia stated. “We’ll go to the Astronomy loft. The rest of you will stay here with Professor Lupin and we’ll practice sending messages to each other.”

With that, Amelia strode from the room. After a couple of glances at each other, Fred, Hannah, Luna and Hermione followed.

“Okay, you lot, line up and let’s see your patronuses,” Remus stated to the remaining students.

-oOoOo-

Harry, Hermione, Daphne and Neville filed into the dining room of Diricawl Academy. Ahead of them, they could see that Minerva and Sirius were standing on one side of a large table. Like the four teens, they were both wearing dark clothing; Sirius even with a black beanie on his head.

Across the table, looking grim, were most of the adults in attendance on the island.

“This is it,” Moody began.

“The big one,” Fred and George instantly supplied making Harry grin.

Moody’s head snapping in their direction with a fierce glower on his face cowered the two.

“This is no time for jokes,” he growled before eyeing the two for another few seconds.

Finally convinced that they were going to control themselves, at least for now, he turned back to the six across the table from him.

“This is it,” he said again. “You’re as ready as we can make you. The moon’s at its darkest tonight, so you’ll have good cover to cross the grounds. And we don’t want to leave it any longer, the longer we do, the longer Riddle’s men have to torture or indoctrinate those kids. You have your equipment? Wands? Knives? Map? Invisibility cloak?”

As he asked after each item, the six of them either nodded or touched the item in question, Harry patting his pocket to indicate where the Marauder’s Map of Hogwarts was safe inside an inside pocket of his jacket.

Filius placed the charmed backpack on the table.

“The portkeys you need to get yourselves and everyone else back to the island are in there,” he stated.

“Along with enough food and water to last you a week,” Emma added.

“We won’t need that much,” Sirius replied. “The plan is to get in, spend a day or two checking things out and then get everyone out the night after that.”

“No plan lasts the first engagement,” Moody growled. “Better to have too much than not enough.”

“Keep in contact with us as best as you can,” Croaker instructed.

In reply, Hermione reached into a pocket and pulled out a small brown leather book and pushed it across to the table to her mother.

“Keep this on you just in case,” Hermione said, and then, seeing the looks of confusion on quite a number of faces, explained. “It’s the journal that Harry gave me a couple of years back. Harry’s got its partner; whatever is written in one, is immediately duplicated in the other.”

“Ingenious,” Croaker stated, sounding impressed. “We’ll need to have a talk about them after you’re back, Potter.”

Harry simply nodded his head.

“If things go south, get out of there,” Amelia stated. “And remember, that if you can’t rescue everyone, that’s just how it goes sometimes. There’ll be some that are marked and if they are, we’ve got wards to deal with them.”

“Greengrass promised to be back by the time you are and he’ll deal with all of our extra mouths for us,” Moody said. “Right then, time for you to go.”

Neville picked up the pack and swung it onto his back moments before his grandmother wrapped him in a great hug.

“Be careful, Neville,” she said.

“I will, Gran,” he replied.

Similar sentiments were being expressed amongst all those going and those being left behind until the crack of Moody’s staff on the floor separated them all.

“Best of luck,” he stated.

With that, the six turned and strode from the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Now …**

“Are we there yet?” Sirius asked as the group emerged from a pipe.

The fact that the meagre light from their lit wands showed that they were now in a much bigger tunnel and that there were shadows of a myriad of other pipes leading off and away from the tunnel indicated that they’d reached the main section of Slytherin’s hidden lair deep under the school.

“Nearly,” Harry sighed, annoyance clear in his voice.

“And here I thought that only non-magical children constantly asked that question when on long trips with their parents,” Hermione commented sotto voce.

“No, it’s _all_ children, even the magical ones,” Minerva replied, having heard her.

Harry, after having a good long look each way, including walking half a dozen metres in either direction, finally worked out where they were.

“It’s this way,” he said, starting off in the first direction that he’d checked.

Obediently, the others followed, the sound of something snapping echoing loudly in the tunnel and making each of them wince. Lowering his wand, Harry peered at his feet and breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that all that they were walking on were rat bones. Still, though, he did his very best to take care where he placed his feet, although avoiding all of the bones was next to impossible.

Finally, after what seemed quite a long time of walking in the near-dark, they reached the end of the tunnel. Before them, taking up most of the wall, was a massive circular, silver door. It was intricately carved, and inlaid with gems, the two snakes that ran around the edge of it, each with the tails of the other in their mouth most predominant.

Having already been here before, albeit not for a number of years, Harry knew exactly what to do. Stepping forward, he held his lit wand high.

_“_ _§Open§”_ he hissed.

Instantly, the twin snakes began writhing around the outside of the door, unlocking the various locks as they went, if the rhythmic sound of _thunks_ that came from the door was any indication.

Finally, after the last lock had disengaged, the door silently swung open.

“After you,” Sirius said, bowing dramatically while looking at Harry and winking.

Taking the cue, Harry strode forward, the others at his heels.

“ _Ignis,”_ he intoned, giving his wand a wave at the nearest wall sconce.

In response, the torch lit and then, one by one, each of the others spread around the cavernous Chamber of Secrets lit in response. As light burst forth, more and more of the Chamber could be seen. It was still as dirty and damp as it was the last time that he’d been down there. Pools of water were contained away from the walkways that led towards the back of the great, high-ceilinged cavern, but that didn’t mean that the they weren’t in danger of slipping on mossy patches if they weren’t careful.

Together, the six walked the length of the cavern, none speaking and all stepping as lightly as they could, until they stopped, looking up into the great monkey-like face of the statue in front of them.

“He may be considered one of the greatest wizards ever, but _Merlin_ , Slytherin is _ugly_ ,” Sirius commented.

“I’m just glad you had that basilisk rendered into potion ingredients and removed; I don’t think I would have liked to be down here with that thing staring at me,” Neville shuddered.

“And definitely not with the smell that would have accompanied it,” Daphne added, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, this is our home for the next couple of days,” Minerva stated. “I suggest that we get ourselves settled and get some sleep; the next little while is going to be tense enough as it is without adding sleep deprivation into the potion.”

With nods all around, Neville swung his pack off of his back and opened it. Sticking his arm into it as far as it would go, he began pulling out sleeping bags and bottles of water. Meanwhile, Harry, Sirius and Minerva were transfiguring pieces of rocks into beds, with Sirius’ being the most elaborate, with intricately carved headboards, while Minerva’s were more practical, more approximating a camp bed.

It didn’t take overly long before all six were lying down, the blankets pulled up to their chin to ward away the cold that seeped down through the bedrock from the Black Lake far above them.

Not one, though, could say that they slept well; all mostly only dozed, tossing and turning continuously in a futile attempt to get comfortable.

-oOoOo-

“This isn’t working,” Harry stated some hours later. “There’s no way I can sleep here.”

The fact that he’d been hearing constant rustling from the beds all around him, meant that he was fairly certain that he wasn’t the only one.

“Perhaps we should get up and get to work,” Minerva suggested.

“Yeah, the sooner we start mapping these tunnels, the sooner we can get those kids out of here,” Sirius agreed as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Can we have something to eat before we start?” Neville asked.

“I second that idea,” Hermione agreed.

“That sounds a wonderful idea,” Minerva stated. “If we have a decent breakfast now, we’ll be less distracted later by rumbling stomachs.”

The small meal boxes that they extracted were found to contain full English breakfasts kept under a stasis charm, all they needed was to be heated up and they were ready to eat. Sitting on the edges of their beds, three side by side on Harry’s and the others on Neville’s, they dug in to their eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, toast and hash browns. One of the flasks that had been packed for them was found to be filled with orange juice; tea, much to Sirius’ disgust, was missing altogether.

As they ate, they discussed their ‘plan of attack’ for determining the best pipes, tunnels and passageways to get them to not only the kids, but also the professors.

“I say we start at the top and work our way down,” Sirius suggested.

“Makes sense,” Harry agreed. “The most dangerous part will be the Slytherins; the more we can do before we get near them, the better.”

“I agree,” Daphne said. “There are bound to be quite a number of the Slytherins that have either taken the Mark or are sympathetic to Riddle’s cause.”

“I believe that we’re in agreement,” Minerva said. “As soon as everyone’s eaten their fill, we’ll be on our way.”

The transfigured beds were left as they were; after all, they’d likely be needed later. The outer door to the Chamber was left open, Hermione even going so far as to place a large rock in the way to ensure that it remained so.

“Just in case something happens and we get separated from Harry,” she explained, to appreciative nods.

And then the hard part began, climbing up through miles and miles of tunnels and slippery pipes. More often than not, Sirius was forced to duck his head to keep from scraping it on the low ceiling. The sound of their feet was unexpectedly accompanied by the _click_ of claws after Sirius had had enough and simply transformed into Padfoot to deal with the problem.

Their path was anything but straight. The pipes and passages twisted and turned, not to mention turning at right-angles once they were definitely within the walls of the castle itself. Occasionally, they encountered stairs, some, disconcertingly enough, taking them _down_ instead of up, as they were aiming for.

“How do we know where we are?” Neville asked a couple of hours later.

Harry stopped, looking down at the Marauder’s Map in his hand with a frown. Neville’s question was very apt. These passages inside the castle walls weren’t marked on the map and, therefore, there were no tiny footprints with their names labelled on them indicating exactly where they were in the castle.

Looking up and down the passageway, he, surprisingly, almost instantly found what he was looking for: a small etching of a snake three blocks up from the ground.

“Only one way to find out,” Harry said, holding out the map to Hermione. “Keep an eye on this. The rest of you, have your wands ready.”

Then, before anyone could protest, he kicked against the snake carving, pushing the block slightly in. A puff of dust shot out from the cracks around the edges of the door that appeared at the same time as a _click_ was heard. Then, silently, the door swung open inwards, just enough to allow a snake to slip through or for a very large snake to be able to nudge it fully open.

Flattening himself against the bricks, Harry peered out through the crack. The corridor beyond was blessedly empty, unsurprising as the map indicated that all of the students were currently in classrooms. Edging the door open a little, Harry took a better look down the corridor. Then, feeling brave, even with his heart hammering in his chest, he slipped his head out and looked down the other way.

“It’s okay; it’s clear,” he said before he stepped boldly out into the corridor.

It was nearly a full three minutes later before he heard Hermione’s triumphant cry.

“Got you! We’re on the sixth floor. Around the bend that way,” here her arm pointed down the corridor to the right, “is the Arithmancy classroom.”

Having achieved the information that was needed, Harry ducked back into the hidden passageway and told the door behind him to close in parseltongue.

“That was very foolhardy, Harry,” Minerva scolded.

The boy in question simply shrugged. “Perhaps, but it needed to be done.”

“You know, there’s an awful lot more of these entrances than I’d expected,” Daphne remarked from where she was bent over the paper she’d laid out on the ground.

As they’d travelled through the passageways, Daphne had been diligently mapping them as best as she could – every turn they took, the tunnels that they explored that turned out to be dead ends and each level that they thought that they’d climbed. Looking down, Harry saw her draw in a new picture of a snake in the passageway that they were traversing. There were now over a dozen of them that they’d come across, this though, was the first to have a label attached to it: Arithmancy.

“Both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw dorms are located on the seventh floor, so we’re going to need to go up one more floor, then either head west towards Gryffindor or east towards Ravenclaw,” Minerva commented.

In the end, the decision of which one to visit first was taken from them, the passageway that they followed taking a sharp jink before they’d even gone up to the next level. Following it along, they came unexpectedly to a dead end.

“Looks like we took a wrong turn somewhere,” a tired sounding Neville remarked.

“Actually, I don’t think we did,” Harry contradicted him before nodding to the snake etching near the ground.

“The only question now is, whereabouts are we?” Hermione asked.

“Hey, that’s different,” Sirius remarked.

Seeing all eyes turned to him, he pointed at the wall in front of them.

“Why would there be a snake carving up here?” he asked, indicating said carving located at head height. “No snake could reach that one.”

“The basilisk could,” Harry countered.

“Not a comforting thought,” Minerva muttered.

Harry, though, moved closer to the wall, his focus on this strange snake. Why would it be there? It had to have been put there by Slytherin himself. A glance down the passageway showed that it _couldn’t_ be there for the basilisk; there was no way the giant snake would have fit through the passageway to get there. Therefore, it _had_ to be there for a person to use.

_“_ _§Open§”_ he hissed.

This time, instead of the expected outline of a door appearing, a section of the rocks to the side of the carving shimmered before turning transparent. Stepping even closer, Harry realised that, although he could now see through the bricks, it was as though they were still there, as a ghostly image.

“It’s like the exit from the passage near the greenhouses,” Neville stated.

“You’re saying that we can see out but no one can see in?” Harry asked.

Neville simply shrugged.

“What can you see, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Harry moved first to one side and then the other, frowning.

“I think it’s the Ravenclaw common room,” he said. “At least, I can see plenty of blues and bronzes and some bookcases. The problem is that there’s a ruddy great big statue sitting just in front of the door.”

“Let me take a look,” Minerva said.

She’d barely switched places with him before the Headmistress let out a gasp.

“That’s not just any statue, that’s the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself,” she said. “Congratulations, we have indeed found a hidden entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.”

“I’m marking it on the map,” Daphne announced.

“One down, three to go,” Hermione smiled.

“And then the professors’ quarters to find,” Minerva stated.

“And a way into the dungeons to get out Trelawney and the others down there. _§Close§,”_ Harry said, turning the bricks opaque once more.

“Let’s get moving,” Sirius said.

-oOoOo-

As much as they’d hoped otherwise, they’d barely managed to find the secret entrances to the remaining common rooms before they had to call it a day. Unsurprisingly, the other three entrances had the same set-up as what they’d found in the passageway leading to the Ravenclaw common room: a dead-end passage, a snake etching near the ground and a second one allowing a person – assuming that they were a parseltongue – to look into the common room without being seen by those inside.

Daphne’s map had grown quite a lot as the day had progressed; indeed, twice she’d needed to lay it down with the edges of a new piece of paper just overlapping it before magically joining them together. Dozens of small snake etchings had been marked on the map, five of which, not counting the ones marking the entrance to the common rooms, had labels attached where Harry’d quickly ducked out into the castle proper to check their location.

Currently, the map was laid out on one of the beds, two others having been pulled close by to be used like benches to a table.

“It’s going to be a bit of a hike getting back down here after getting the kids into the passageways,” Sirius commented.

“That can’t be helped,” Minerva replied. “We need to be down here in order for the portkeys to work and not be stopped by Hogwarts’ wards themselves.”

Harry meanwhile, was using his wand to trace the fastest route from each common room down to the Chamber, marking each in the House’s respective colour. While he was still incredibly proficient with his wand, he missed the feel of his rowan staff in his hand, there was just something … right about it, and the added power didn’t hurt either. Unfortunately, the staff wouldn’t shrink with him when he changed into Tavi, thus it had to stay behind back at Diricawl.

“Ravenclaw and Gryffindor’s paths meet here,” Harry said, tapping the intersecting red and blue lines. “That’ll make it easier to get everyone together and down here. With there only being six of us, we’re going to be spread too thin, but linking up means that one or two of us can lead the students from this point while the others go on to the next targets.”

“I want us to stay in pairs, at a minimum, at all times,” Sirius stated, looking at each of them in turn to ensure they realised how serious he was. “If something goes wrong, if we’re discovered, having an extra wand at your back will be essential.”

“That route works well,” Hermione added, “Look, it joins up with Hufflepuff here, and then with Slytherin here.”

“The big question will be, where the staff are and how easy they’ll be to get out,” Minerva stated.

“A question for tomorrow,” Sirius said. Then, after casting a quick _tempus_ , added. “It’s time to check in with home.”

Brandishing his wand, he produced a silvery grim, who stood menacing the Chamber, its hackles raised and teeth bared before turning back to eye Sirius.

“Message to Remus: Progressing well. Hope to be done mapping by tomorrow night.”

After a minute bow of its head, the ghost-like grim bounded across the Chamber and disappeared through the wall.

-oOoOo-

The following evening saw the six once more gathered around the now much expanded map. A dozen or so extra passageways and the corresponding snake drawings in the appropriate places had been added. In addition to this, two purple lines branched off to two separate locations on the second floor.

“From these two points, we can access all of the staff,” Minerva said, indicating where each of the purple lines ended. “Unfortunately, that’s as close as we can get. In order to get them into the passageways, we’re going to have to venture into the castle corridors themselves and physically go door to door.”

“There’s likely to be charm alarms on each of those doors,” Sirius warned, “so when we go after them, we’re going to have to hit hard and fast.”

“How do we know that none of them have turned?” Neville asked.

“We don’t,” Minerva replied grimly. “But we can make educated guesses. I know my old colleagues well and none of them would have allowed themselves to be Marked. As for the new teachers,” she shrugged, “it’s certain that Alecto and Amycus Carrow are Death Eaters. I’m fairly certain that Mister Elmsworthy can still be trusted, but Miss Channing is a complete unknown. We’ll leave her until last and hope for the best.”

“What about the ones in the dungeon?” Harry asked, indicating the Marauders Map which was open beside the new one.

All eyes settled on the labels of Sybil Trelawney, Dean Thomas, Quincy Rivers and Olivia Snook.

“Unfortunately, they’re going to be the most heavily guarded,” Sirius stated. “We leave them until last and I’ll go after them personally.”

“Remember, this is a rescue mission. We’re not here to engage the Death Eaters in battle, in fact we’re hoping that we won’t even _see_ one,” Minerva emphasised. “We go into each House, have the students gather in the common rooms, check for any Marked student. Those we find, we stun and bind. Then we simply get them into the passageways and down to here. Once the students are safe in the tunnels, we attempt to rescue the staff and those in the dungeons.”

“We’ll leave the portkeys here,” Sirius added. “As soon as the students start arriving, we start porting them out. These passages may be fairly secure, but they’re not impenetrable.”

“I assume that we’re sticking to the plan of having us go in pairs?” Harry asked.

Minerva nodded. “Yes. Myself and Neville; Sirius and Daphne; Harry and Hermione. One male and one female in each pair, making it easier to reach each dormitory.”

“What about Professor Snape?” Hermione asked, “he’s Hogwarts Headmaster now.”

“He is,” Sirius agreed. “He’s also a Marked Death Eater. Regardless of where his loyalties lie – and I have a pretty good bet of where that is – he stays behind. Diricawl’s wards won’t let him through even if he is on our side.”

“Alright, everyone,” I think that we’re as prepared as we’re going to be,” Minerva said. “I suggest that you all try to get a few hours’ sleep. It’s going to be a long night.”


	7. Chapter 7

The instant the hand touched his shoulder, Harry’s eyes flew open. Seconds after that, he was throwing the blankets off and sitting up.

“Grab a drink and a quick bite to eat,” Sirius said, standing tall between Harry and Hermione’s beds. “We head out in ten minutes.”

While Harry was slugging back some water, he cast his eyes around at the others. All were involved in last minute preparations. Daphne and Hermione were laying out the skipping ropes in two long rows with enough space between each rope for two people to stand side by side. Neville had his head nearly buried in his pack. And Sirius and Minerva were talking in low voices as they looked over the map of the passageways once again.

Finally, everyone was ready and Sirius called the group together.

“You all know the plan,” he said. “No heroics. We get the kids out safely without risking ourselves and preferably without even being seen. Daphne, you and I’ll grab the Hufflepuffs first. Once we’ve got them in the tunnels, we’ll leave them to wait for the next group and head to Slytherin House.

“Neville, Minerva, you two will start with Ravenclaw. By the time you get those kids back down, you should be able to link them up with the Hufflepuffs before beginning to move the combined group back down here. As soon as you have kids in here, start porting them out, it’s going to take some time to do and I’d rather not have a backlog of kids in case the cauldron blows up in our face.

“Harry, Hermione, you’ve got Gryffindor. It’s the farthest form here, so expect your group to arrive last. At worst, Minerva and I will be still working on freeing the professors and the ones in the dungeon. Do Not Wait For Us. Got it? Get the Gryffs down here and out as soon as you can. We’ll follow, don’t worry.

“Everyone clear on the plan?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

“Perfectly.”

Once everyone had affirmed that they were ready, the six set off.

There was no real talking this time, no gentle banter; all knew that the situation was far too serious for that and thus they were acting accordingly.

Pointed looks were exchanged as they passed the four snake carvings that would be used last: the one to the dungeons, the two to the professor’s quarters, and the one to Slytherin House.

At the fifth important snake carving, the group paused.

“Good luck,” Harry murmured, before giving Sirius a quick hug.

“Thanks. You, too, Pup. Be careful,” he replied.

With a sharp nod, Harry let go.

None of the remaining four waited to see Sirius and Daphne entering the Hufflepuff common room; they had their own missions to accomplish, their own Houses to get to.

-oOoOo-

“Don’t let that door shut!” Sirius whispered urgently, seeing the door to the secret passageway beginning to swing closed behind them.

Quickly, Daphne backtracked, throwing a hand up to stop the door. Looking around, she spied a book, carelessly left on an end table beside a couch. Snatching it up, she put it into the door, stopping it from sealing. As soon as she was sure that it’d hold, she looked up and nodded.

Sirius nodded back before gesturing to the corridor that held the girl’s dorms.

Taking her cue, Daphne ghosted down the corridor. Her first instinct was to go to the fifth year girls dorms, but shook her head. That idea was pointless; there _were_ no Hufflepuffs who’d just finished their fifth year; all had transferred to Diricawl.

Instead, she went to the sixth years’ dorm.

Opening the door, she slipped inside,

There were seven beds in here, all along one wall, the opposite taken up by a gigantic window that overlooked the Black Lake. Daphne couldn’t help but steal a look, dazzled by the amazing sight.

Finally, she shook herself, refocused on the job at hand and approached the first bed. Reaching over, she gave the girl’s shoulder a gentle nudge.

“Hgh? Wha’?” the girl muttered after the second nudge.

“I need you to get up,” Daphne whispered.

The girl’s eyes blearily opened and peered at her in the dim light coming through the window.

“Who you?” she asked.

“Daphne Greengrass. I’m from Diricawl. We’re here to get you out,” she replied.

That was enough to shock the girl awake. She shot up in bed, staring at Daphne wide-eyed.

“You’re from Diricawl? Really? How’d you get here? I thought no one can come or go,” the girl asked rapid-fire.

“We can,” Daphne retorted. “Now, get up and wake the others. And I mean _all_ of the others. Every dorm. Tell them to bring only their wands, there’s no time for anything else. And keep the noise level down. Meet in the common room in three minutes.”

-oOoOo-

“Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Miss Andrews. Now, up you get, time to get you out of here,” Minerva replied to the seventh year Ravenclaw.

The girl stared at her for a few seconds before her eyes narrowed.

“Where’s Professor Carrow or Headmaster Snape?” Andrews asked.

“In their beds I should expect, which is all the good for us,” Minerva replied tersely. “Now, up!”

Andrews reached for her wand on the little shelf on her bedhead as she slowly got out of bed, her eyes never leaving her former professor’s. As soon as she was on her feet, she bolted for the door.

A single swish of her wand sent a jet of red at the girl’s back, dropping her with a _thump_ on the floor, her wand rolling away. A second wave of Minerva’s wand brought the girl’s wand to hand even as she crossed the room and knelt down.

“What have you done?” Minerva breathed in horror, lifting up Andrew’s left sleeve to reveal the writhing black mark on the girl’s arm that marked her as being a Death Eater.

Hearing a noise behind her, Minerva whirled about. All of the other four Ravenclaw seventh years were now awake, staring at her. Shooting to her feet, Minerva’s wand danced, casting rapid-fire _incarcerous_ spells at each girl followed by a wide area silencing charm.

Then, Minerva went bed to bed, lifting up each girl’s sleeve. Thankfully, only one other was marked as Andrews was. That girl, Richmond, was promptly _stupefied_ and gagged. Lifting the silencing charm, Minerva gazed sternly at the remaining three girls.

“Are any of you in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” she asked.

Three heads rapidly whipped from side to side.

“Not us, but three of the sixth year girls are, and one of the fourth years. There could be others, but that’s all I know of,” one quickly replied.

“Show me,” Minerva commanded. “You two, begin waking the younger years. Get them to the common room. Wands only. We’re getting you out of here.”

-oOoOo-

“Feels almost weird to be back,” Harry whispered to Hermione after the two slipped into the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione took a look around and shook her head. “I remembered it differently, romanticised it, I think. It used to feel so warm and cosy, comforting. Now, it just feels crowded and cramped; guess I’m just used to the enormous common area at Diricawl.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Right, let’s get to work. I’ll start with Seamus.”

“Lavender and Pavarti,” Hermione agreed.

Harry slipped up the stairs into the boy’s dorms, climbing past two rooms before stopping at the third. Carefully, he eased the door open and slipped inside.

Surprisingly, the room looked almost empty. Only two beds, along with their cupboards, desks and side tables, remained of the original five, and of them, only one was occupied. In seconds, Harry was standing over Seamus. The boy was fast asleep on his stomach, a line of drool dangling from his mouth halfway to the floor.

“Seamus, hey, Seamus,” Harry said, shaking the boy’s shoulder.

_Fffffftttt!_

“Oh, man, I forgot about those,” Harry exclaimed, wiping away the now rank air, tears beginning to stream from his eyes.

“Seamus!” Harry called, louder this time.

The boy in question opened his eyes and looked up and then his eyes widened.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, mate, good to see you,” Harry smiled.

Seamus rolled over, giving Harry his first decent look at his face.

“Man, what happened to you?” he asked, eyeing the mottled purple patches on the side of Seamus’ head and around and under both eyes. The corner of his mouth also looked swollen.

“Carrows,” Seamus replied succinctly. “Let’s just say that their idea of punishment is something that old Filch always dreamed about.”

Harry shook his head. “Well, I’m here to get you and everyone else out of here.”

“That’s brilliant, Harry!” Seamus beamed, starting to get out of bed before freezing. “Dean … !”

“Don’t worry, I know; we won’t leave him behind,” Harry promised. “Now, grab your wand and help me wake everyone else.”

-oOoOo-

The rustling of clothes and the susurration of voices was what alerted Neville that they were getting close. Admittedly, with nearly one hundred teens at his back, hearing anything up ahead in the hidden passageways was problematic. Looking carefully, he was just able to make out a soft glow coming from around the bend up ahead.

Neville’s hand flew up to shield his eyes as he emerged into the glow of dozens of lit wands.

“Hey, put those things down will you, you’re blinding me,” he called urgently but softly, after all, as the saying went, walls have ears and it was unknown exactly how much sound could be heard in the corridors of the castle from the hidden passageways.

“Neville? Neville Longbottom?” a voice asked.

“Yeah,” he replied cautiously.

“It’s Stephen. Stephen Cornfoot,” the boy identified himself, stepping forward. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Neville replied, stepping forward to shake hands. “I take it all of Hufflepuff is here?”

“Yeah, well, except for the four idiots who’d taken the Mark,” Stephen replied. “ _They’re_ trussed up in a bathroom.”

“Good,” Neville replied with a firm nod of his head. “Right you lot, let me through.”

Obediently, the Hufflepuffs parted into two lines, their backs against the walls, a path in the middle for him. When he was about halfway down, Neville paused and turned about, looking at as many of the ’Puffs as he could.

“You lot need to follow me; I’ll lead you down to where we have portkeys to get you all out of here,” he explained. “The ’Claws will follow you and Headmistress McGonagall will be bringing up the rear to make sure no one gets lost. Try to keep your voices down, Death Eaters could be just the other side of that wall and we don’t want them to know you’re escaping.”

Having ensured that all had understood his warning, Neville pushed forward to the head of the now expanded group and looked back.

“Well, don’t just stand there, come on,” he said, before striding away.

-oOoOo-

Cormac Mclaggen stood at the back of the crowd, almost squished against the wall, bodies pressing in to either side of him. He was a big guy, just finished his sixth year, and he liked his space. He also liked being the centre of attention. Being forced back here, almost in the shadows was galling. So was having a kid younger than him, not even a Hogwarts student at that, regardless of his _fame,_ commanding the attention of the entire Gryffindor House.

“Hermione and I are here to get you out of the castle,” Potter stated from where he was standing on one of the study tables so that everyone could see him.

“How _can_ we get out? Every entrance is guarded,” one voice called.

“They won’t even let us out of here without some of their goons escorting us,” another stated.

“And how’d you get in, anyway?” a third asked.

Cormac was most interested in that answer. Shuffling sidewards, he pushed himself into a better position to see from.

“Doesn’t matter how we got in, we’re not going out that way anyway,” Potter replied. “Now I know that this is probably a pointless question, but I’ll ask it anyway. Who here’s taken the Mark?”

No one replied although there was a bit of shuffling off to one side. Cormac shook his head.

_Idiots_ , he thought.

“You three,” Potter called, pointing to three of the larger students in the room. “You’re all seventh years, yeah?” At their nod, he continued. “Right, roll up your sleeves.”

When all three did, showing clear, unblemished skin, Potter smiled.

“Right, you three just volunteered to guard the Fat Lady,” he said. “Don’t let anyone out of here. Anyone tries, stun them, no questions asked.”

After the three had moved into position, their wands drawn, Potter looked over the rest of the crowded Gryffs.

“The rest of you are going to line up and show me, Hermione and Seamus your arms,” he stated.

“And if we don’t?” a voice challenged.

“Then I stun your arse, bind you, stick you to the ceiling and leave you here,” Potter growled. “You show us your bare arms and you get to get out of here.”

The rustling of fabric sounded all around Cormac and he could see sleeves being rolled up all around the place. There were a few, he knew, who would protest.

And, as expected, one did. Felicity Moreman. She was a fellow sixth year and one who Cormac knew had taken the Dark Mark. The girl, Hermione, had approached her first. The instant that she did, Moreman raised her wand. Potter, though, was quicker. He’d obviously seen her wand and took action. His reactions were phenomenal. Before Moreman’s wand had even come to bear, Potter had fired his stunner, catching her in the side and dropping her where she stood.

He and girl strode over, bent down and ripped her sleeve away, exposing the black snake and skull motif. And, true to his word, Potter stepped back, shot an _incarcerous_ at her, levitated her and stuck her to the ceiling.

He then stood there, glaring at all, daring them to try something.

Cormac gulped. Suddenly, being in the back of the crowd didn’t seem such a bad thing after all.

-oOoOo-

Sirius’ Animagus form may have been a grim, but right now he was more like a terrier. He was systematically going through the Slytherin boys’ dorms, starting with the oldest and working his way down. And the longer he was at it, the angrier he was becoming.

He’d started with the oldest.

Knowing who he was dealing with, there were no niceties like there’d been in Hufflepuff. Here he simply slipped in the door and ruthlessly stunned every single kid before any of them even realised that he was in their room. He then moved from be to bed, lifting up sleeve after sleeve only to find the Dark Mark burned onto arm after arm. With each find, the kid was shot with a second stunner, bound and gagged.

Not one had been found unmarked in either the seventh or sixth year’s dorm. He was currently in the fifth year’s, staring down at the latest Dark Mark that he’d uncovered. Shaking his head in disappointment, Sirius followed his own protocol, restunning, binding and gagging the blonde-headed boy.

He’d hoped, desperately, futilely as it turned out, that his cousin Narcissa’s boy would have stayed a proud Black and bent the knee to no one, not that there were many in the family who could say that they did. Still, he’d hoped. But, no, just like every other boy in this room, all were marked. He prayed that he’d find some unmarked kids in the lower years. And that Daphne was having better luck with the Slytherin girls.

-oOoOo-

It was the piercing, echoing screams that spun Neville around. Looking back, he could see a bright gleam of light, maybe halfway down the column of combined ’Puffs and ’Claws. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The only light _should_ have come from lit wands, not from something that looked like one of the secret doors being opened, a feat that _should not_ have been possible without Harry.

Clutching his wand tightly in his hand, Neville rushed back into the crowd. Unfortunately, whatever it was that had terrified the students had sent them panicking. Dozens of bodies ran at him, pushing him backwards until he could reach one side, spreadeagled against the wall and latch his fingers into the stones simply to hold himself into place.

Screams still echoed up and down the passageway; screams that needed to stop before it brought every last Death Eater in the castle running.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Neville pushed forward, sticking close to the wall. Every step was a battle but as more and more fleeing students passed him, it became just a little easier to move.

And then the bulk of the students had passed and Neville got a good look at what was wrong. Blood instantly drained from his face and he took an involuntary step backwards.

A snake, bigger than any that he’d ever seen, was in the passageway in front of him, its tail so long that it was only now just finishing coming through the door.

Three students were slumped against one wall, their faces constricted in agony as they clutched leg, arm or stomach where they’d obviously been bitten.

A jet of orange burst from a wand on the opposite side of the passage and the snake recoiled, its mouth opening wide as its head snapped around, searching for the danger. But whatever that spell was, all it seemed to succeed in doing was to anger the snake.

Coiling in on itself momentarily, the snake whipped its tail out, striking the boy who’d fired that curse in the chest, sending him spinning into the wall with a meaty _whack_ before dropping him to the ground in a boneless heap.

Again, the snake struck out, this time with its fangs, striking once, twice and finally on the third time, latching on to a small girl, maybe a first or second year. The girl screamed, tears running down her face as the snake pumped venom into her leg before letting go and coiling backwards.

The sight of the crying girl, trying to hobble away, struck at Neville and he straightened. His fingers moved about his wand, twisting it slightly into a better grip.

“ _Stupify!”_ he roared.

But the jet of red seemed to bounce off of the snake. Its head twisted about to face him.

“ _Stupify! Stupify!”_ he cast again and again.

The snake recoiled slightly, but only enough to give itself room to move before striking out.

Neville dove left, slamming his shoulder hard into the bricks before scrambling backwards.

His desperate move meant that the snake’s second strike at him also missed.

As the snake struck towards him the third time, its mouth wide, moisture gleaming from its very prominent fangs, Neville thrust his wand forward.

“ _Bombarda!”_ he cried.

The curse was practically swallowed by the snake, having been shot straight into its mouth. And then the snake _exploded_ from the inside. Its very head was blown off shooting up and over Neville, bits of blood and gore splattering him on its way past.

But the snake’s death throes weren’t done with yet. Without a head, the rest of the body convulsed, twisting and writhing every which way. Two students were knocked over by its unexpected change in direction before being partly crushed. Slowly, the body’s movements slowed, becoming weaker, until, with a final shudder, it stilled.

Neville stayed frozen in place, his wand still raised, his eyes staring wide straight ahead until the light from the corridor suddenly shut off. Blinking, he looked over to see Minerva leaning against the now closed door.

“Well done,” she said simply.

“Thanks,” he managed and then promptly tried to wipe the splatter off of his face.

One look at his hand was enough to have him rolling over and promptly throwing up.

-oOoOo-

Cormac was starting to get desperate. The number of students left to be ‘checked’ was rapidly dwindling.

Looking up, he gulped at the sight of the nine bodies bound and stuck to the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room. He did _not_ want to be the tenth.

His eyes flittered about, searching … searching for something, _anything_ that would get him out of this situation. He knew that if he could just get out of here, he’d be a hero. He could deliver Potter to the Dark Lord himself and he’d be rewarded.

But the door was guarded, not that those three had had anything to do. No one had tried to break free.

Knowing that it was his only way out, Cormac slowly began to edge towards the Fat Lady. As he did so, his mind was whirling. He had to try _something_.

“Daniels, Patterson,” he called as he changed from his sidling towards the door into a determined, confident walk.

“What, Mclaggen?” Daniels asked.

“Potter wants you with Hermione; they’re just about ready to go and need you to help organise the Gryffs into some semblance of order,” he said.

The two shared a look, shrugged and looked back.

“I’m to take your spot until we’re ready to go,” he added, hoping that it’d be enough.

“Fair enough,” Daniels said. “Come on Monty.”

As the two moved away, Cormac moved into position, his back to the painting, watching over the crowd. He was one step closer now and a good step at that; he’d picked the two closest to the edge of the doorway; Miller, the third ‘guard’, being closest to the hinges.

He waited then, letting Miller lose interest in him and turn back to looking over the crowd of Gryffs.

And then he made his move.

Whirling about, Cormac, grasped the edge of the painting, ripped the door open and bolted.

A shout and a couple of badly aimed bursts of red light followed him but he was able to scamper around a corner and out of sight within seconds without being hit or stopped.

Now all he had to do was to find someone and let them know that Potter was here and trying to help the students escape.


	8. Chapter 8

“Potter!”

Harry spun at the yell of his name.

“It’s Mclaggen,” Miller, one of the seventh years he’d posted as guards on the door to the Gryffindor common room stated.

Harry took note that the portrait hole was open and gritted his teeth at what he knew he was about to be told.

“He just rushed out of here. I tried to stop him, but I missed,” Miller stated.

Yep, just as he knew.

“Get that portrait hole closed!” he snapped. “And someone put some chairs or something in front of it to block it off.”

A half dozen jumped at his orders, grabbing up one of the larger couches and carrying it over before piling other chairs on top of it. Leaving them to it, Harry spun back to the rest of the Gryffs.

“If you’ve been checked, get over this side of the room,” he said, pointing to the side where the secret entrance to the tunnels were. “The rest of you, over there against that wall.”

Instantly, a surge of students moved towards him, leaving less than two dozen still to be checked.

“Hermione, get this lot into the tunnels,” he said. “Seamus, cover me.”

“Right you are, Harry,” Seamus replied, lifting his wand.

Hermione stared at him, concern all over her face.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be right behind you,” he reassured her.

“Okay, you lot, let me through,” he heard her say before she disappeared into the crowd.

Turning back, Harry looked at the remaining Gryffs.

“Pull up your sleeves and hold out your arms,” he ordered.

All bar one instantly complied. The remaining one, an older girl, hesitated just enough for both Harry and Seamus to immediately swing their wands towards her. Raking his eyes down the bare arms of the others, Harry gestured behind him.

“The rest of you, join the others,” he said. “As for you … sleeve. Now!”

Her eyes darted between the two boys and the wands in their hands before she moved, reaching into the folds of her dressing gown. Before her wand had even cleared the material, twin jets of red slammed into her chest, dropping her and sending her wand clattering to the ground.

Seamus stepped forward, ripped up the left sleeve of her robe and looked pointedly back at Harry.

“After seeing _them_ ,” Seamus said, darting his eyes up towards the ceiling, “you’d think she’d know she had no chance against us.”

“Some people don’t learn,” Harry replied, before binding her, levitating her and sticking her to the ceiling with her brethren.

Turning back to the other side of the room, Harry saw that the crowd was surging forward. In fact, it looked like a sand timer on its side, with the sands of students in the middle disappearing into a hole while the ones on the outside slowly moved closer.

_Thump_.

The sound spun Harry, Seamus and half a dozen others around, their wands drawn.

A second _thump_ came from the portrait hole and the frame shuddered slightly.

“They’re here,” Harry said flatly.

Turning about, he noted that more than half of the Gryffs were still in the common room. A third _thump_ turned him back. This time he saw the couches piled in front of it jolt slightly.

“That’s not going to hold them for long,” Harry stated. “Listen, Seamus, you’re going to have to look after this lot. Get them into those tunnels and close that door behind you. There’s a stone to the left of the door, three up from the floor. It’s got a carving of a snake on it. Give it a kick and it’ll lock the door. Then _keep everyone moving_. Hermione’ll lead the way. Get them down to McGonagall and Neville, they’ll help get them out.”

“Sure, Harry, but what are you going to do?” Seamus asked worriedly.

“Buy you guys some time,” he replied grimly.

-oOoOo-

After clapping Seamus on the shoulder, Harry darted away, through the couches near the fireplace and up the stairs towards the boys’ dormitories. At the first landing, he stopped and opened the door to his left, directly across from the first years’ room.

This was the Gryffindor’s Head Boy room. There was one in every dormitory for both the boys and girls in every House. Harry’d heard stories about this room from both Sirius and Remus, considering that his dad had stayed here when _he_ was Head Boy. The best part about it was, as the Head Boy needed to be accessible to all, it had a second door, leading out to the main part of the castle, one that was rarely used and thus mostly forgotten about.

Easing open the door, wand up and ready, Harry looked out. Seeing the way clear, he slipped out. Padding quietly, he crept down the hall, his head constantly swivelling from forward to back.

At the corner, he stopped, took a deep breath and quickly ducked his head around.

There were four of them trying to get in. All dressed in their traditional black robes that all Death Eaters wore. A fifth, Mclaggen, was standing back slightly, just watching.

“This is no good,” one of the men growled, rubbing his shoulder after just slamming it into the portrait. “I say we just blast it.”

A terrified scream sounded from one of the paintings and Harry’s eyes, just like the Death Eater’s, darted across to it. Seeing their focus on her, the Fat Lady jumped out from behind the table that she’d been hiding behind before racing out of the side of the portrait. For a few seconds, she could be seen running form portrait to portrait, trying to get as far away as possible before she disappeared around the corner.

“On three,” the Death Eater said, turning back to the empty frame guarding Gryffindor House and raising his wand.

His companions lined up beside him, their wands also up and ready

“One.”

“ _Flippendo! Diffindo! Incarcerous!”_ Harry cast, having stepped out and around the corridor.

His aim was perfect. The light grey spell sent the first Death Eater spinning forward, slamming hard into the wall; the hot pink one cut the second man’s arm, creating a burst of blood and his wand to fall to the floor; and the light blue spell bound the third Death Eater.

Unfortunately, that still left one. And Mclaggen, but at the first spell, he’d dropped to the ground and covered his head with his hands.

A shot of dark purple came spitting back at Harry and he spun away.

“Potter!” the Death Eater growled and Harry took off at a dead sprint down the hallway.

The sound of pounding footsteps behind him was like music to Harry’s ears. With the DE following him, the others were safe with, hopefully, enough time now to escape. A jet of something dark blue flew past him and Harry shied away, just in time, as an emerald green curse passed through the spot where he’d just been.

Eyes wide, Harry took off, running even faster than he thought he was capable of.

-oOoOo-

Sirius and Minerva crept down the corridor, their wands trained and ready, Sirius’ to the front, Minerva’s covering their back.

Reaching the door that they were aiming for, Sirius cast a quick ward detection charm over it. He frowned at the alarm charm before quickly stripping it away. A simple _alohamora_ was then enough to get it open.

“Who’s there?” a determined voice with a hint of fear in it asked.

“Septima? It’s Minerva.”

“Minerva?” Septima questioned, coming into the light to see better, her wand up. “It is you. And Sirius Black.”

“Ma’am,” Sirius nodded.

“We’re here to get you out,” Minerva told her.

“I can’t leave,” Septima replied, shaking her head. “The students …”

“Don’t worry, they’re safe. We’ve already got them,” Minerva reassured her.

Septima stared hard at her for a moment before nodding her head. “In that case, lead on.”

The three had barely gotten out of the door when an amplified voice blared throughout the castle.

“POTTER! HARRY POTTER IS IN THE CASTLE. HE’S ON LEVEL SEVEN.”

“Well that’s done it,” Minerva muttered, turning to begin striding down the corridor.

“Min! Wait!” Sirius said quickly. “I know you want to go help Harry. So do I. But we can do more good finishing what we started. Just remember, I know _all_ about rushing off blindly without thinking. As soon as we’ve got the last of the professors and the ones in the dungeons out, we’ll go, wands lit and ready to blast the bastards to pieces.”

The decision was interrupted by the arrival of a glowing ghostly stag.

“I’m fine. Leading them away to give you time to finish what we started. I’ll catch up.”

With Harry’s message delivered, Prongs faded away.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way,” Minerva stated, her eyes narrowed. “Let’s just make sure we’re done as quickly as possible.”

-oOoOo-

Hermione startled backwards as gleaming stag pranced through the wall directly in front of her.

“Prongs,” she whispered.

“I’m fine. Leading them away to give you time to finish what we started. I’ll catch up.”

Hermione frowned at Harry’s message. Typical boy. Always trying to do the right thing and helping others at the sake of himself. Was it any wonder she loved him?

“You better stay ‘fine’, Harry,” she muttered angrily.

“What was that?” the question came from numerous voices behind her.

Turning she saw the confused and scared faces of the Gryffindors crowding the passageway behind her.

“That was a message from Harry,” she said. “He’s buying us some time to get away; let’s not waste it.”

With that, she turned and began striding down the tunnel, her pace increasing in her worry for her boyfriend.

-oOoOo-

“What is this place?”

“Where are we?”

Confusion was mixed with awe at the sight of the great silver and begemmed door in front of the crowd of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

Stepping forward, Neville grabbed hold of the edge of the enormous door and heaved. Thankfully, it was spelled to move easily and opened with a lot less effort than he was expecting. Once the door was open, he couldn’t help but go with a little theatrics.

Neville stood in the very centre of the doorway and spread his arms.

“Welcome, everyone, to the Chamber of Secrets,” he said grandly.

A shake of her head and a sigh preceded Daphne stepping up and not-so-gently pushing him aside.

“Follow me,” she called. “The portkeys to get you out of here are at the far end of the room.”

The crowd poured in, heads swivelling to either side to take in the enormous chamber and its many columns, all decorated in snake motifs. And then those heads tilted back as the statue of Salazar Slytherin came into view.

“Right, listen up!” Daphne called.

When the crowd had formed up around her, spreading out to either side, she continued.

“Those ropes behind me are the portkeys. That’s all there are, which means we need to get as many people on each one as possible. If you haven’t used a portkey before, the main thing to remember is that you need to be touching it; a finger will do. You’ll feel a spinning feeling and more than likely with this many people, you’re going to land hard.

“The place where you’re going is at Diricawl Academy. _All_ the portkeys go to the exact same place, so we’ll be sending you at intervals of two minutes, that gives you time to get up and get out of the way before the next group arrives. Everyone understand?”

At their nods and mummers of ‘yes’, she indicated the first of the ropes.

“At least twelve people to each one, grab it and get ready,” she said.

In response, there was a surge forward.

“Right, I count sixteen on this one,” Neville called. “I’m sending you first. _Activate!_ ”

With a swirl of multicoloured lights, the first group of students portkeyed out and to safety.

-oOoOo-

Harry was starting to get desperate. He’d been on the move now for nearly half an hour, constantly running, never stopping.

Feet pounded after him, always only just back around the corner. Twice he’d thought that he’d lost them, only to find that they’d all but flanked him, appearing from cross corridors, their wands spitting jets of multicoloured lights at him.

In each instance, he’d managed to avoid getting hit, either by dodging, shielding or once even, batting the spell away. He wasn’t exactly sure _how_ he’d managed that feat, but if he lived through this, he was determined to find out how and to learn to do it properly.

He’d returned fire of course. Once, even literally shooting a jet of fire down the corridor, making the Death Eaters shy away, their arms up to protect their faces. He wasn’t positive, but judging by the screams that he’d heard, he _thought_ that he might have hit one or two of them during their running battles.

His biggest problem was that he was confined to the seventh floor. Any time that he’d attempted to take the stairs or one of the shortcuts throughout the castle to a lower level, they’d been there before him, cutting him off and turning him back. The other big problem was that, apart from inside the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms, he didn’t know where any of the entrances to the secret tunnels were and he didn’t have time to stop and look for carvings of snakes.

He’d not long escaped a battle and he was breathing hard. He had a little bit of space but not a lot, a couple of minutes at most. Running, he knew wasn’t going to work. He needed somewhere to hide.

And that was his thoughts as he ran down an unfamiliar corridor.

“ _I need somewhere to hide.”_

Reaching a dead end, Harry spun around with a growl.

“ _I need somewhere to hide.”_

Reaching the end of the corridor where he’d just come from, he stopped, hearing the _thumps_ of booted feet coming. No, there was no exit that way without a fight.

“ _I need somewhere to hide.”_

He was getting desperate now as he raced back up the corridor, searching everywhere for a place to hide, including behind the tapestry of some weird wizard with trolls in tutus of all things.

And then he saw it. _How_ he’d missed it before now he had no idea. But there was a door. Right in the middle of the wall. Not questioning his good fortune, Harry raced forward, ripped the door open and raced inside.

-oOoOo-

A shadow appeared where there shouldn’t be one and Hermione paused, bringing her wand up before her.

Cautiously, she edged forward, a forest of wands raised on either side of her by some of the Gryffs.

Whatever it was was lying on the ground right in the middle of the passageway. It was big and curved nearly from one side of the passageway to the other. At first, she thought that it might be a body, but then, stepping closer, she noticed the sheen of light bouncing off of it in the light of the lit wands.

“Snake!” she yelled, realising all of a sudden what it was.

A slew of coloured lights streamed forth, impacting it. But, although it jerked slightly with each spell, it didn’t move as she would have expected.

“Wait! Stop firing,” she ordered, holding up one hand.

Instantly, she was obeyed.

Creeping forward some more, Hermione shone the light of her wand over the snake. Yes, it was huge, larger than any she’d ever seen. And it was clearly dead, but where it’d come from and what had killed it was a mystery.

That was until she reached its head. Or rather, where its head _should_ be. The end of the snake was one mess of flesh, blood and gore. She retched and took a step away, and that’s when she noticed another shape, maybe ten or so metres away.

It seemed that she’d found the head, its mouth still wide and fangs gleaming.

“It’s alright, it’s dead,” Hermione called back. “Unfortunately, we have to get past it. Come on.”

Stepping carefully, Hermione led the way, over the snake’s body and around its head. As soon as she was past, she kept walking, not once looking back.

-oOoOo-

Crouching low, Sirius took a peek around the bend in the stairs that he was on and into the dungeons.

Two Death Eaters were standing in the middle of the corridor, both looking alert, their wands held in their hands but lowered. It was sheer luck and a well-placed shadow that meant that they didn’t see Sirius looking at them. Judging from their position, he thought that they were just to the fore of the cells being used to hold Trelawney and the three students.

Leaning back, Sirius made eye contact with Minerva before holding up two fingers. She nodded, closed her eyes and transformed.

Sirius’ eyes widened at the unexpectedness of the transformation. Before he could do anything, Felicity had skittered down the stairs and into the dungeon corridor.

“What’s that?” one of the Death Eaters asked.

“Just a cat. Probably one of the kids’ stupid pets,” the other replied.

“What’s it doing down here?” the first asked.

“How should I know? Probably just looking for a rat or something.”

Sirius had taken the chance while they were distracted to ease his head around the corner again, being careful to keep to the shadows.

Felicity, he saw, was now level with the guards, sauntering between them, tail high and then further down the corridor. As she passed, both guards pivoted to follow her. And that’s when Sirius realised the true purpose of the transformation.

Slowly, he lifted his wand and shot two quick stunners.

“You took your time,” Minerva stated after reverting back.

“Sorry, didn’t realise what you were doing at first,” he replied, quickly walking down the corridor.

The cells were heavily warded, resisting the attempts of the two to dismantle the wards for nearly five minutes before the locks _clicked_. Sharing a grin, the two opened the first cell.

“Professor McGonagall?” a raspy voice asked.

“It’s good to see you too, Thomas,” Minerva replied. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dean replied.

“Excellent, let’s get you and the others out of here,” she said.

-oOoOo-

The room that Harry entered was _huge_! Definitely at least twice the size of Hogwarts’ Great Hall and easily three times bigger than the Chamber of Secrets. But for all its size, it was filled with … junk. There really was no other word for it.

Desks and chairs and bookcases and cupboards and books and potion vials and _empty sherry bottles_ and skeletons of unknown animals and … Really, the list could go on and on. And all of it was piled high on top of each other. There was no order, just mountains of … things. It looked as though whenever anyone came in here, they simply threw whatever they wanted to get rid of wherever they felt like and left.

Hearing a noise behind him, Harry dashed into the nearest isle and tried to lose himself in the rom. After all, if _he_ couldn’t find himself, then how could the Death Eaters?

The sound of voices, had Harry ducking behind a table on its side. Vaguely, he noted the opened trunk in front of him, old and half-rotting robes lying beside yellowed parchment, dried up inkwells and some dusty textbooks.

“He went in here, My Lord,” a voice said. “I saw him just as I came round the corner.”

“You have done well,” the voice of Voldemort hissed.

Harry could imagine the megalomaniac caressing his wand as he praised his follower.

“Spread out, he’s in here somewhere,” Voldemort continued. “You four, stay with me and guard the door, Potter won’t escape me this time.”

Hearing the sound of people starting to move through the room, Harry began backing away, being careful not to bump into anything and give away his position.

Keeping low, he ducked around a rickety-looking pile and paused, his head and eyes darting every which way, seeking his next move – either somewhere to hide or something to help him escape. Seeing something about the size of his fist, he snatched it up, drew his hand back and paused at the glittering red.

A ruby? This size? Harry shook his head at what he was holding. Not giving the priceless thing another thought, Harry leant back and threw it as hard and as far as he could. He watched it sail through the air, over the nearest pile before it disappeared.

As he’d hoped the sound of it crashing into something elicited yells from the men and bodies racing in that direction. As soon as they started, Harry darted the other way.

“There!” the yell was the only warning he got.

Looking around, Harry found that he’d darted into an aisle that gave a straight view back towards the door. Seeing the wands coming to bear, Harry dove away.

A jet of sickly yellow flashed overhead before slamming into something and exploding. Shrapnel – pieces of wood, bits of bone and slivers of glass – pelted him, cutting into his back and making him scream out in pain.

A jet of green hitting and exploding the leg of a chair just to his right had Harry skittering away.

With the constant spells coming at him, Harry had no time to defend or respond in kind, only to dodge and weave, to keep on the move, trying to make sure that there was detritus between him and the Death Eaters to obscure their shots.

“There you are, Harry,” Voldemort smiled.

Harry looked up into the red eyes and smiling face of the most dangerous man in the country. Voldemort cocked his head slightly as he regarded him.

“There’s nowhere else to run, Harry. No parents here to save you. Nor any friends. You’re all alone,” Voldemort near-purred.

Harry’s head snapped about desperately. There was a cupboard – useless to try to hide in – and a table with a bust of some witch wearing a ghastly tiara on its head. But no where to hide.

“ _Avada – ”_

Hearing the spell, Harry shied backwards, banging painfully into the table with his hip and toppling the bust.

_“Kedavra!”_ Voldermort intoned, flourishing his wand.

As Harry began falling backwards, his vision filled with emerald green and glittering gold and blue.

It was his last sight before his world turned to black.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry awoke with the image of green, gold and blue still behind his eyes. His head was killing and he brought his hands up to rub over his face. Then, recognising that the ache was more in the back of his head, he lifted up slightly and ran one hand over it.

Encountering a sticky liquid snapped his eyes open. In the dim light filtering in from somewhere he stared at his hand. It was red, covered in his own blood. He stared at it trying to remember back to what had just happened.

And then his eyes focussed past his hand and to the dark wood less than half a metre in front of his face. Turning his head, Harry found more wood just past his shoulder. He winced as he whipped his head to the other side and began panicking at the sight of even more wood. He was trapped, boxed in.

Once again, the flash of green, gold and blue flashed before his eyes and his heart, already beating fast sped up even more, even as his breath started to become short and jerky.

The killing curse.

Voldemort had shot the killing curse at him.

And now he was in a box.

A coffin.

He’d died? Again. And now no one realised that he was alive once more.

“My Lord? My Lord?’ a panicky voice filtered in to him and he froze.

“Is he alright?” another asked.

Maybe, just maybe, he _hadn’t_ died.

But there was no way that that AK could have missed. Harry frowned as he remembered that he’d seen _three_ colours just before everything went black. And the killing curse was only one – green. Perhaps whatever that gold and blue was had intercepted the curse? It was the only explanation that he could come up with.

Listening closely, Harry determined that the voices were coming from his left. That meant that if he was going to get out of here, he needed to move to his right. Looking closely, he noted that the wood was actually badly splintered on that side.

Harry frowned, trying to determine what it was that he was trapped in. The only thing that came to mind was that cupboard that he was standing right next to. Maybe when the AK had hit, it’d exploded and sent him into the cupboard before it fell over? It was the best theory he could come up with. Not that it mattered right now. All that mattered was getting out.

Slowly, Harry felt around. Finding the edge of some wood, he pushed it out. There was a _creak_ and he stilled. Not hearing anything from the Death Eaters, he pushed on.

Slowly, piece by piece, he moved enough of the broken wood out of the way in order to make a hole big enough for him to squirm out of. He hissed as a piece of wood jabbed into his side and again when his already hurt back was scraped some more.

Rolling out of the cupboard, Harry stayed low and still. And then his eyes widened as he realised what was directly in front of his nose – his wand, miraculously whole and undamaged. Carefully, he reached out and took it, breathing a silent prayer of thanks to have it back in his hand.

Slowly by surely, Harry gathered his feet under him and got up into a crouch so that he could peek over the top of the downed cupboard.

Eight or nine black robed Death Eaters were gathered around another lying flat on the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the milky white skin of Voldemort on the ground. Exactly how that had happened he had no idea, but he wasn’t going to let a gift hippogryph go.

Taking one last look, Harry turned away only to pause in surprise at the battered and half-melted gold tiara on the ground in front of him, its blue sapphire gone smoky. Impulsively, he picked it up and pocketed it; a souvenir that had saved his life.

Silently, Harry slipped away, further and further back into the maze of junk piles that the room contained. He hadn’t gone too far, though, when he heard voices and froze, listening intently.

“Get off me, you fools,” Voldemort snapped. “Why aren’t you four guarding the door?”

The sound of footsteps fading told Harry that his exit was once more blocked.

“Where’s the boy? Where’s Potter?” Voldemort demanded.

“I … I don’t know, My Lord,” a Death Eater stuttered.

“Well? Don’t just stand there. Go and bring me his body,” Voldemort commanded.

Harry’s heart was beating hard as he listened to the Death Eater moving about, wood snapping and then the crash of something large being lifted and tossed aside.

“He’s not here!” a surprised voice called.

“What?” Voldemort demanded. “Where is he?”

“He can’t have gone far,” the Death Eater stated. “There’s a lot of blood here.”

“He can’t escape. This room is sealed and we block the only exit. Spread out and find him,” Voldemort commanded.

Harry looked around wildly. He needed a way out. At the very least, some way to distract the guards at the door so that he could slip past. While his brain was working feverously, he found himself staring at one of the many skeletons that were in the room. Exactly what the animal once was was anyone’s guess; Harry’s guess was: niffler.

“No, it couldn’t be that easy, could it?” he breathed.

A whole bunch of animals running all over the place could make a nice distraction, especially if they all rushed the door at the same time. And if one of them happened to a mongoose …

But animals wouldn’t be enough. He needed to get them not just looking in the wrong place, but also thinking wrong. He needed some way to confuse them. A memory of a confused Ron sprung to mind and Harry smiled.

“Thank you, Fred and George,” he muttered.

With a plan now in place, however tentative it may be, as well as a somewhat, for now, secure place to hide, Harry got to work.

“ _Draconifers!”_

His first spell was his favourite. Within a few seconds, three miniature dragons were sitting before him. A quick compulsion spell later, followed by a series of engorgement charms and they were ready.

With a final flick of his wand, Harry sent the three shooting into the air. He watched for a second as their wings flapped once, twice, thrice and then they began soaring through the great hall, around the spindly columns and out of sight.

The cries of surprise and fear that erupted had Harry smiling widely.

Distraction one, complete.

Now came the big task.

Harry’s wand became a blur as he transfigured the detritus around him into as many animals as possible. A niffler was his first, followed by hedgehogs, ducks, some rats, a colony of meerkats, a dog and a pair of cats. All were given a compulsion spell to run about the room until they heard the activation phrase and to then rush the door.

Finally, Harry quickly transfigured an old pair of robes into a chimpanzee, added a compulsion for it to get as far away as possible, before hiding and then gathered his magic for the final spell.

“ _Ad hanc mittere vocem_ ,” he intoned.

Eyeing the chimp, Harry shrugged.

“Testing,” he whispered, only his voice came from the chimp’s mouth instead of his own.

With a couple of final flicks of his wand, Harry added a _sonorous_ to the chimp before sending the menagerie out to do his bidding.

“Say, Voldesnot? What’s it like living in a school that you’re not the Headmaster of?” Harry’s voice boomed out a few minutes later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you make all of your Death Eaters wear a mask when _you’re_ the one that doesn’t look human?” he continued.

“Find him!” Voldemort hissed menacingly.

“Have you considered wearing a different colour at all? Just you look like some kind of priest or something,” Harry said as he moved further and further around the room to one side.

“These taunts are not worthy of you, Potter. And they will do you no good. Angering me will not make your death any quicker,” Voldemort retorted, his own _sonorous_ charm in place.

“I don’t know about that, you seemed pretty quick to shoot that AK at me before. Not that it did any good! How many times have I survived that curse now? Three, is it?” Harry replied.

It now sounded as though the chimp was on the complete opposite side of the great room. Harry took a cautious risk and moved about so that he could see better. Yes, there were a number of black robes concentrating on the far side of the room. Even the four guards on the door were facing in that direction, as was Voldemort.

“Why don’t you come out, Harry? There’s no need to make this game any longer than it needs to be,” Voldemort stated.

“Gotta say, I don’t agree with you there. Besides, I’m having too much fun. Didn’t you ever play ‘hide and seek’ at the orphanage?” Harry asked.

_That_ taunt had just the right effect. Voldemort took a half dozen angry strides towards where Harry’s voice was coming from, taking him away from the door. Seizing the chance, Harry slipped silently forward, closer to where he needed to be.

Noting that the Death Eaters searching for him were now much closer together, Harry realised that his chimp didn’t have long left to ‘live’.

 Steeling himself, he knew that it was now or never. Carefully, he began moving.

“I’ve just got one thing to say to you, Riddle,” Harry called.

“Indeed, Harry? And what would that be? Voldemort asked savagely, most likely in response to his birth name.

“I’ve got your nose!”

Before the echo of Harry’s voice faded away, a host of animals rushed at the door. The four guards backed up, their wands flicking from target to target without a spell being fired.

“My Lord?” one asked worriedly.

Voldemort spun around, saw the animals and sneered at them.

“Ignore them, he’s trying to distract us. Don’t leave your posts,” Voldemort ordered.

In a great rush, the animals scampered around the Death Eaters legs, making them shift nervously about. But not once did they move from their post. Not when the meerkats skittered past or the cat or the host of rats. Not even when a lone mongoose shot from the side, through the legs of one of the guards and out the door.

-oOoOo-

Tavi didn’t change back to human until he was a full three corridors away from the junk room. And even then, it was only because human legs were longer and therefore faster than a mongooses’.

Finally, after what seemed ages, Harry ducked back into the Gryffindor Head Boy’s room, across it, down into the common room and only paused long enough to locate the carving of the snake and to hiss at it.

Once the door was closed, Harry breathed a silent prayer and rested with his hands on his knees. For a bit there, he didn’t think that he was going to get out of that one alive. A little ingenuity, though, seemed to go a long way to combatting brute force. He grinned, imagining what the look on Riddle’s face was going to be when he realised that they’d been chasing a chimpanzee.

Straightening up, Harry brandished his wand.

“ _Expecto patronum!”_ he intoned. Once Prongs had appeared and appeased himself that there was no danger, Harry gave him his message. “For Hermione: I’m safe in the passageway near Gryff Tower and on my way down.”

Its instructions complete, the stag took off, taking the light that it’d been giving with it.

Lighting his wand, Harry set out after it in a light jog. There was a long way to go to get to the Chamber, after all.

-oOoOo-

“About time, Pup! What took you so long?” Sirius asked as Harry trudged through the doors into the Chamber proper.

Harry simply looked up and raised his hand in a tired wave.

Sirius and Minerva, it seemed, were the last ones there. A single skipping rope lay on the ground just behind them. All other evidence that the group had stayed there the last couple of days was gone – not even the transfigured beds remained.

“Is that blood?” Minerva asked anxiously, her voice rising at the end in alarm. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Harry replied tiredly.

“What happened?” Sirius demanded.

“Got chased. Got cornered. Escaped,” Harry replied succinctly. “Fill you in properly later once we’re home, I’ve eaten and slept.”

“I’ll be holding you to that,” Sirius stated.

“Hold on, gentlemen,” Minerva said, holding out the rope.

As Harry and Sirius reached out and simultaneously grabbed it, they shared a tired grin. Moments later, the portkey was activated.

-oOoOo-

Harry would have fallen on arrival at Diricawl if not for Sirius’ quick reflexes. Even then, Harry still stumbled slightly, despite the vice-like grip his godfather had on his bicep.

“About time you got here,” Chert grouched. “Now get out and let me put this room back to rights.”

“Good to see you, too, Chert,” Sirius grinned at the goblin.

The three had barely cleared the door to the Reception Room before a bushy-haired missile slammed into Harry.

“I was so worried,” she said into his ear. “You were gone so long.”

She leant back then without taking her arms from him.

“That was mighty dangerous and foolhardy, though, Harry, rushing off like that by yourself,” she admonished. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“Sorry, love, but it had to be done,” Harry replied. “They were all but through the portrait. If they’d succeeded, not only would they have captured everyone still in the common room, but with the door to passageways open, they likely would have captured everyone. I assume that we got everyone out safely?”

“Three hundred and twelve students and six professors,” Remus said from where he’d been standing off to the side. “I don’t think you left anyone behind.”

“What I want to know is where that ruddy big snake came from and who killed it?” Harry asked, remembering the unexpectedly gory sight that he’d nearly stumbled over on his trek through the passageway.

“That would be Neville,” Minerva replied. “And I’ll let him tell the story of that. How are the students that were bitten by it?”

Remus’ face fell. “Three died. The other two are just hanging on. Thankfully the boy with the head injury will make a full recovery, as will the two with broken bones.”

“Speaking of injuries,” Sirius interrupted. “Harry, you need to head straight to the hospital wing. The back of your head is matted with blood and your back’s a bloody mess.”

“What?” Hermione exclaimed, pulling at him to get him to turn around. “I thought you said that you were ‘fine’? _This_ does not look like ‘fine’!”

“I am fine,” Harry protested, a fact that was belied when Hermione’s gentle probing hands on his torn shirt had him wincing.

“No. You’re not. Sirius’s right, hospital wing,” she ordered.

“You know that you just said that Sirius was right, don’t you?” Harry asked even as he was being ushered out of the Security Office.

“Hush, you,” Hermione said. “And that’s something that need never be repeated.”

“Yeah, right, like Sirius is ever going to forget _that_ ,” Harry snorted.

-oOoOo-

Both Harry and Hermione were greeted by a slew of voices as they entered Diricawl proper, all from the now ex-Hogwarts students. Their calls, though, brought others out to add in their greetings and thanks for rescuing them from the hell that the castle had become.

The voices were cut off as they went down the corridor towards the hospital wing.

“You people really did a very good thing,” Remus stated.

Harry paused as they were about to enter the hospital and raised his eyebrow at the Deputy Headmaster.

“It’s still early and a lot of them simply wanted a place to sleep for the remainder of the night,” Remus began. “But we’re starting to hear stories. And from what we’re hearing, Snape and the Carrows did not make the students’ lives there pleasant at all.”

When Remus didn’t elaborate, Harry nodded.

“I think that I can guess; I saw Seamus’ face, that was enough to tell me what’s been going on,” he said.

“Mister Potter, what seems to be the problem?” Healer Jeffries asked, rushing over the instant that she saw them walking in, Hermione with one arm around Harry helping keep him upright.

“Just a bit tired,” he tried, but quickly continued when Hermione ‘hmphed’ at him. “And I seem to have a few bumps and scrapes.”

“On the bed, please,” Healer Jeffries instructed. “And tell me where it hurts.”

“Well, I guess, the back of my head, my back, my left forearm, my side and my right shin.”

Healer Jeffries began bustling about. Her wand instantly vanished the remains of his shirt before she gave a sigh.

“‘A few bumps and scrapes’ he says,” she mimicked.

“I wouldn’t listen to him,” a voice called from further down the ward. “He’s a Potter and just like his father – always getting into trouble and hurt one way or the other and thinking that it was nothing to worry about.”

Harry turned at the familiar voice before being pushed back to face the front. He’d had enough time, though, to confirm who’d been speaking.

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey, glad to see you made it,” he said.

“Thanks to the six of you, yes,” she replied.

“And I’m thankful that you rescued her as well,” Healer Jeffries stated, “without Poppy, there are a couple of extra kids who might have died.”

There was silence then as Healer Jeffries moved about Harry, healing the smaller cuts with her wand, using essence of dittany on the larger ones and spreading bruise balm where needed. Even his hair wasn’t spared, being magically washed and dried from the matted blood that had congealed in it.

Finally, bandages were wrapped around his torso to protect his back and she pronounced him all done.

“A day or two should see the worst of those cuts healed up,” Healer Jeffries declared. “For what remains of tonight, I’d like you to stay here. Especially with that head wound. It looks like you took quite the nasty bump and I want to be sure that there’s no ill-effects.”

Harry was about to protest, his mouth even opened to do so, until he saw the expressions on not only Hermione but also Sirius, Remus and Minerva.

“Whatever you say,” he replied, bowing to the inevitable.

“Get some rest, Pup,” Sirius said, patting his leg. “Moody, Amelia and the others will want to know what happened in the morning and we’ll need you awake for that.”

Harry nodded, already dreading the tongue-lashing that he knew he was in for when he told of his adventure in the junk room.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Hermione said, leaning in to give him a kiss that was a little more heated than a peck, but not overly so with so many others in the room.

“Goodnight, Hermione, I’ll see you in a few hours,” he replied.

With that, he lay back and tried to find a comfortable position for his head and back. Somehow, he didn’t think that sleeping would come very easily the way he was feeling.

In that, he was wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

The three men in black robes stood silently, staring at the creature. Their wands were lowered, just like their jaws. Currently, they shared one common thought: they were _immensely_ glad that there was a massive pile of old tables, desks, chairs, trunks and other loose items hiding them from view of their Lord.

Eventually, the one on the left nudged the one in the middle.

“You go tell him,” he said.

Instantly, the man’s face paled to a white eerily similar to the bone mask that he ordinarily wore as a Death Eater.

“No way,” the man hissed back. “You do it.”

“I’m not doing it,” the first Death Eater protested. “What about Matthews? He’s still new, send him.”

“Forget it! I’m not telling him … this,” the third Death Eater refused. “Besides, he doesn’t like it when the lower ranks address him. It has to be the highest ranked Death Eater.”

The man on the left began visibly trembling even as he was swallowing again and again, desperately trying not to throw up at what he knew was to come.

“I don’t want to tell him,” he whispered.

“What don’t you wish to tell me?” the silky voice of the Dark Lord asked from directly behind them.

The three men froze, not daring to turn to face the wrath that was to come.

The creature in front of them shifted slightly, saving them from the horrid task. Obviously, the movement had caught the Dark Lord’s attention and the three Death Eaters found themselves being pushed aside as their Lord stepped past.

“What is this?” the Dark Lord bellowed.

“A … a … a chim … a chimpanzee, my … my L-lord,” the one in the middle stuttered through his trembling.

“I can see that, imbicile!” the Dark Lord snapped. “Why does this creature hold your attention when you are supposed to be looking for Potter?”

The three attempted to look at each other, each silently trying to suggest that one of the others answer the question, before a decision was made, their worlds exploded in pain.

“CRUCIO!”

The men fell to the ground, their screams piercing the air and echoing in the great room even while their very bodies twisted and writhed about in agony.

“I believe that I asked you a question,” the Dark Lord hissed, having lifted his curse.

“The monkey,” the newest Death Eater of the three managed through his pain. “Potter’s voice … Potter’s voice was … coming … from it.”

“What?” Lord Voldemort asked, his red eyes narrowed.

“We heard it, Master,” the middle Death Eater agreed. “It said that … thing … before the other animals … ran away.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes flicked between the three and all felt a tickle in their minds. Suddenly, the Dark Lord’s wand whipped up and the three flinched. The jet of vivid orange light that spat from the wand though wasn’t aimed at them.

The very briefest of screams was ripped from the chimpanzee before the animal exploded.

The three men on the ground tensed, expecting to be splattered by blood, guts and bone. Instead, tiny pieces of fabric floated down on top of them.

“AHHHH!” the Dark Lord screamed before whipping around and sending every kind of lethal spell in his arsenal into the piles of junk.

Explosions rocked the room as bits of wood and glass and marble and paper and all kinds of material exploded or were set alight. And at the Dark Lord’s feet, three Death Eaters cowered, covered their heads with their hands and did their level best to neither move nor make a sound. After all, they had no intention of having their Lord’s wrath turned on them at all.

-oOoOo-

After a Dobby served breakfast in bed where the little guy intently hovered around Harry after retrieving Harry’s staff from his bedroom for him, obviously wanting to assure himself that Harry was actually okay after his latest encounter with Riddle, Hermione came to escort him to the expected meeting and debrief about their mission to Hogwarts.

“This way, Harry,” Hermione said, tugging on his arm to get him to change direction when he started heading towards the Dining Room.

Harry turned at her insistence, sending a questioning look at her.

“That room is packed with students that we rescued. As are most of the classrooms,” Hermione explained. “We’re meeting in the Astronomy Attic instead.”

“Makes sense,” he said as he took a good look at her. “You didn’t get hurt or anything last night?”

Hermione smiled at him. “Unlike some, I never even _saw_ a Death Eater, well, unless you count the ones we stuck on the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room.”

“So … that’s a ‘no’, then?” he grinned.

“Yes, Harry, that’s a ‘no’. I’m perfectly fine,” she said.

Entering the room, it was obvious that they were the last to arrive.

A large rectangular table had been set up. Six chairs sat to either side, with Sirius, Minerva, Neville and Daphne taking up one side, and Amelia, Mad-Eye, Croaker, Kingsley, Remus and Augusta sitting on the other.

“Sorry we’re late,” Harry apologised as he and Hermione slipped into the chairs left for them. “Healer Jeffries wouldn’t let me out before I’d eaten something.”

Moody’s grunt told Harry that next time, the old auror expected him to eat faster.

“Obviously, your mission to Hogwarts to rescue the staff and students there was a success,” Amelia stated, beginning the meeting. “Congratulations. I think it’s safe to say that magical Britain and specifically all of those students and their parents owe you a debt too big to repay.”

“I’m just glad that we were able to pull it off,” Sirius stated.

“I’m just sorry that those three students didn’t make it,” Minerva said softly.

“You can’t blame yourself for the unexpected happening,” Moody said. “No one could predict that snake. From what I understand you dealt with it; mind you, I’m looking forward to hearing that story told properly.”

“We’ll get to that later,” Croaker stated. “Let’s start with getting in. Any problems?”

“None whatsoever,” Sirius replied. “Our Animagus forms passed through the wards as we knew they would and then it was simply taking our time to cross the grounds, sneak into the castle and reach the entrance to the secret passages in the walls.”

“Any evidence that Riddle is aware of them?” Moody asked.

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. Before thinking better of that answer. “Actually, probably yes. If Nagini knew about them, it’s a safe bet to assume that Riddle knows of them. But I don’t think he uses them; at least, there was no evidence anywhere that he’s been there, either in the tunnels or in the Chamber itself.”

“Tell us more about these passages. Do they really go everywhere throughout the school?” Amelia asked.

Daphne rose from her seat and placed a large roll of parchment on the table, using minor sticking charms on the corners to hold it flat.

“This is what we mapped of them, but really, unless you’re a parseltongue like Harry, they’re useless,” she said.

The others crowded close to look them over, often pointing out features or asking for clarification on something drawn there before they nodded and allowed Daphne to roll it back up.

“It took us two days to map that much,” Sirius summarised.

“You went into the dorms in teams of two?” Kingsley asked.

“We did,” Minerva nodded. “Sirius and Daphne looked after Hufflepuff and Slytherin, being close together and didn’t involve as much distance to travel before they could begin getting the students out.

“Neville and I were assigned Ravenclaw. By the time we had the students out and had escorted them down the passageway, we were able to link up with Hufflepuff. Not long after that, we unexpectedly encountered Nagini.”

“And the snake’s really dead?” an eager Moody asked, leaning forward on the table, his mouth twisted into a grizzly grin.

“Yeah,” Neville gulped, going slightly green. “I managed to blow its head off.”

“How did it manage to bite five students and crush three others to the point where they needed to have their bones vanished and regrown?” Augusta asked, looking sick at the thought that that could have been Neville. “Couldn’t it have been dealt with from a safe distance?”

“Pure dumb luck,” Minerva stated. “Nagini entered the passages as we were passing, pretty much right in the middle of the group. Some of the students attempted to kill it, but its skin was magically resistant.”

“Then how did Neville manage to decapitate it?” Kingsley asked.

“I shot a _bombarda_ down its throat,” Neville replied.

Harry clapped his mate on the shoulder.

“Sounds like what I did with the basilisk,” he beamed.

“Nagini wasn’t as big as that,” a green-looking Neville replied. “Still ruddy huge though, especially with its mouth wide open coming at you like that.”

“Not many could have kept their head like that Longbottom,” Moody praised. “I’d take you as an apprentice in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you, Master Auror, but Neville must respectfully pass,” a proud-sounding Augusta replied for him. “As well as I know Neville could do as your apprentice, he has his heart set on the field of herbology.”

Neville beamed at his Gran, after all, he wasn’t relishing the idea of saying ‘thank you, but no thank you’ to the old, grizzled auror.

“Once we got past Nagini,” Minerva said, continuing to relate the story, “we joined up with the Slytherins and Sirius and Daphne. Neville and Daphne then continued with the three Houses to the Chamber to begin porting out the students, while Sirius and I rescued firstly the staff and then those in the dungeons.”

“Any problems there? I would have expected there to be guards in the dungeons at least,” Amelia stated.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. “There _were_ guards. Minnie here simply distracted them by walking straight between them and allowing me to stun them in the back.”

“You walked right between them? And they didn’t attack you” an incredulous Amelia asked.

“Yes,” Minerva stated indignantly.

“Tell them _why_ they didn’t attack?” Sirius coaxed, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Minerva glared at him for a moment, before saying haughtily, “because they thought that I was simply a cat.”

Moody was the first to laugh and not just laugh but to howl, slap his knee and to have tears streaming form his eyes.

“What I wouldn’t give for a squad of Animagus aurors,” Moody laughed. “Am, please tell me that you can make it happen once this war is over.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” a smiling Amelia promised.

Once everyone had calmed down, Minerva finished her story very quickly and all turned to Harry and Hermione.

“Now, let’s hear about the Gryffindors,” Amelia said.

“Things started off okay,” Harry began. “It was only as we were checking everyone in the common room for the Mark when the potion bubbled over.”

“Wait? What? You didn’t check them until they were all together?” an incredulous Moody asked. “Bound to be trouble that way. They could have easily outnumbered you, overpowered you and killed you.”

“Admittedly, Neville and I did the same in Hufflepuff House,” Minerva said.

“Hmph. You’re all lucky to be alive,” Moody groused. “Should have simply stunned them while they were still asleep and checked them then.”

“We did do that in Slytherin,” Sirius admitted, “but we thought the other Houses wouldn’t be much of a problem.”

Moody simply shook his head at them, grumbling to himself under his breath.

“What happened?” Amelia prompted Harry.

“One of the sixth years, Mclaggen, managed to convince a couple of the seventh years that I’d posted as guards on the Fat Lady, that he was to take their place. As soon as he did, he ran to alert the Death Eaters that we were there,” Harry said. “I went out the Gryffindor Head Boy’s room to lead them away and to give the others time to escape.

“Led them about a bit until they nearly cornered me. Luckily, I found that old junk room across from the tapestry of the wizard teaching trolls to dance and hid in there.”

“What junk room?” Sirius asked. “I don’t remember any junk room.”

“Nor do I,” Remus added, “and we pretty much mapped the entire castle.”

“It was up on the seventh floor,” Harry said, staring between the two men. “It’s huge! Twice the size of Hogwarts’ Great Hall and filled with all kinds of old junk stacked up in mountains – desks, chairs, cupboards, books, potion stuff, skeletons, you name it and I bet it was there.”

“I was a student, teacher, Head of House and Deputy Headmistress for over forty years, Harry, and I’ve never heard of such a room either,” Minerva stated with a shake of her head.

Harry stared at them. “But it was there! I was in it!”

“We believe you, Potter,” Croaker said placatingly. “My guess is that there’s some magic from the old castle involved somehow. What happened? How’d you get out?”

“They cornered me in there, Voldemort and a bunch of his Death Eaters. I hid for a while until they found me,” Harry said. “I thought that I was about to die. Riddle had me dead at the end of his wand. Even cast the killing curse at me.”

“You were struck by it _again_!” a distraught Hermione shrieked.

Harry rapidly shook his head while throwing his arm around his girlfriend.

“No. No. It missed,” he said quickly. “I bumped a table and this tiara thing fell and got in the way of the curse. Must have caused a massive explosion ’cause the next thing I knew was that I was waking up in the fallen cupboard and Riddle was down as well, not that I know how that happened, since he was so far away.”

To illustrate his point, Harry fished the mangled tiara out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

“ _That’s_ what saved you?” Croaker exclaimed, shooting to his feet and snatching up the tiara before rapidly casting spell after spell at it.

“Well, I’ll be,” Croaker finally said, falling back into his chair with a _thump_. “Do you know what this is?”

When all shook their heads at the tiara that he was waving around, Croaker told them.

“ _This_ is the fabled lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. An object that was lost a millennium ago. And from the residue magic that I’m seeing here, it seems that Riddle found this at some point and _perverted_ it.”

“You don’t mean …” Sirius asked wide-eyed.

“I do,” Croaker nodded. “ _This_ was one of Riddle’s horcruxes. Seems he destroyed it when his killing curse hit it. Your little mission not only freed those kids, but also destroyed _two_ more of Riddle’s anchors. Right where Dumbledore insisted that none could possibly be.”

“What does that make? Six destroyed?” an excited Amelia asked.

“That’s right,” Croaker smiled. “Only one to go. And then Riddle himself.”

“We’ll come back to that later,” Moody interrupted. “I want to hear how Potter escaped Riddle this time.”

“Simple really,” Harry shrugged. “I transfigured a whole bunch of animals and added a compulsion spell to run around the room until they heard the correct phrase. Then I did one more transfiguration – a chimp, added Fred and George’s ventriloquist spell so that whatever I said came from it instead of me and snuck off, taunting Voldemort and distracting him and his Death Eaters the whole time. As soon as I was in position, I gave the activation phrase and all the animals rushed the door, including one mongoose. Voldemort even ordered his men to ignore them thinking I was just trying to distract them.”

“Good one, Potter,” Moody laughed. “You’re going to have to teach me that spell, though.”

“Sure, as long as Fred and George don’t mind,” Harry replied happily. “They invented it, after all.”

“What was the activation phrase?” Sirius asked.

Harry looked at his godfather blandly.

“Does Mister Padfoot doubt the pranking abilities of Mister Tavi?” he asked.

“Mister Padfoot recognises Mister Tavi’s young age and questions his skill at ensuring such a situation is taken with the gravity that it deserves,” Padfoot replied.

“Mister Tavi would like to remind Mister Padfoot that not only is he the godson of a Marauder, but also the son of one,” Harry stated. “The activation phrase was ‘I’ve got your nose’.”

“You said that to _Voldemort_?” Remus blanched before breaking out into a smile and a laugh.

“Well, _someone’s_ got to have it, don’t they? He certainly doesn’t have it,” Harry said, making the entire room burst into peals of laughter.

-oOoOo-

“How long can we house the Hogwarts contingent?” Augusta asked.

“Three hundred and eighteen of them? Not long. We’ve got enough food for about a week, but sleeping?” Remus shrugged. “Every classroom is already full, as are the spare dorms and the Dining Room. We’re packed to the rafters.”

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

“Daddy!” Daphne exclaimed, jumping up and running to the man standing in the doorway.

“Hello, Princess,” Cyrus said, wrapping his daughter in a hug. “It’s good to see you and even better seeing that you didn’t suffer any injuries on your little adventure.”

“Cyrus, we expected you back yesterday,” Amelia smiled.

“I would have been here then, too, if it wasn’t for a nasty wind and current,” Cyrus replied.

Confused looks were exchanged between the group.

“Wind? Current? Sounds like you were at sea,” Remus said.

“Well, I was,” Cyrus replied, “if you come over here, I’ll show you.”

The group quickly stood and walked around the table, before following Cyrus onto the small balcony that surrounded the Astronomy Attic.

“Take a look out there,” Cyrus said, gesturing grandly out to sea.

There were a number of gasps as, looking out to where he was pointing, the group found a large ship sitting serenely in the waters just off shore of the island. It was painted white with a striking red trim and was big enough to have three levels plus a wheelhouse situated at the very top. The foredeck was easily big enough to hold dozens of people, but even that was dwarfed by the large, flat deck on the back that held an actual helicopter!

“You’ve brought a muggle ship here!” an irate Augusta exploded. “What were you thinking? The Statute of Secrecy …”

“Doesn’t apply,” Cyrus interrupted. “That ship belongs to Greengrass Enterprises, meaning that it is an object owned by a magical family. In addition to that, it’s staffed solely by either muggleborns or squibs.”

“It’s big, I’ve give you that,” Sirius stated, “but is it big enough to hold over three hundred kids plus their professors?”

“Easily,” Cyrus replied. “Pretty much every room has space expansion charms applied to them. And there’s a slew of rune schemes all over the _Bella_ to enhance her even more. I’ve also provisioned her with enough food for twice that number to easily last a couple of months.”

“You want all the kids to live on that for the duration of the war?” a surprised Croaker asked.

“Don’t be absurd, Algeron, the kids would go stir crazy and end up throwing each other over the side of the ship before the first week was done,” Cyrus snorted. “No, I’ve set up a place for them in Iceland. It’s not as cosy as here or Hogwarts but it’ll keep them safe and out of the way of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters.”

“How do we get everyone out there? Portkey?” Minerva asked.

Cyrus shook his head. “No, that’s not a safe option. With the _Bella_ being subject to the sea, she moves and the wrong movement at the wrong time could be disastrous for a portkey.”

There were quite a number of winces at the image that that statement brought.

“I was hoping that Diricawl’s hovercraft was available?” Cyrus said.

“Of course! I’ll have her ready in an hour or two,” Sirius beamed. “We’ll need quite a number of trips to get everyone across, but I can’t see that being a problem.”

“You’ve done well, Cyrus,” Amelia said.

“We all have,” Cyrus corrected. “To have all of those children out of Hogwarts and away from You-Know-Who will be a weight off everyone’s mind and make this war much easier to fight.”

“If we want people to help fight back, then we’re going to need to tell them that they can without fear that he’d retaliate against the children,” Croaker stated. “Right now, everyone believes that Riddle’s won, simply because they think he’s holding all of the children hostage.”

“Then that’s our next priority, getting the word out to the people,” Amelia stated firmly.


	11. Chapter 11

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’s Great Hall was all but empty. This was in direct defiance to the word of Lord Voldemort.

As the last of his Death Eaters returned, empty-handed he noted, the Dark Lord rose from the great golden chair usually occupied by the Headmaster and stepped to the edge of the platform.

He waited as the underling informed Lucius of the predictable results of the search and then some more as Lucius approached the platform before dropping to one knee, his head bowed.

“Well?” Voldemort asked.

“The prisoners are gone, my Lord,” Lucius spoke into the ground. “The guards were found stunned and locked in one of the cells. Neither saw who attacked them and there is no evidence to suggest who is responsible.”

“I think we all know who is responsible,” Voldemort countered. “Potter!”

“The boy is not smart enough or talented enough to empty the castle of all the students, professors and prisoners bar those marked and loyal to you, my Lord, without help.”

A lazy wave of his wand had Severus Snape drop to the ground, screaming as his body twisted and turned, trying to escape the excruciating pain of the cruciatus.

“Do not speak out of turn, Severus,” Voldemort admonished before lifting his curse. “Especially about matters of which you know little. Potter has not been a student here for many years; there is no telling how much he has learnt during that time.

“Even if the boy did have help, tell me, Severus, Lucius, Wormtail, how was the impossible made possible? How were the wards breached? How were over three hundred students moved through the castle without any of us seeing? Did they use portkeys or apparate, neither feat, I might add, which should be possible within Hogwarts?”

Lord Voldemort swept his gaze over the three named advisors, those who were reputedly his greatest thinkers and strategists. When none moved, apart from the occasional twitch from Snape still lying on the ground, his gaze moved on. Bellatrix was clueless but near foaming at the mouth ready to avenge her master’s honour and he graced her with a small smile. Crabbe, Goyle, Avery and Nott, shifted nervously but offered nothing in answer.

“None of the students saw or heard anything ...” Lucius began.

_“Crucio!”_ Voldemort cut the man off, holding the spell for long enough for Lucius’ screams to become whimpers.

“Not all, Lucius,” Voldemort corrected. “Mclaggen there saw and even warned us that it was happening. Perhaps if my Death Eaters had some of the courage of a Gryffindor this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius managed to reply.

“My Lord?” Yaxley asked. At Voldemort’s nod, he continued. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that there were secret passages in the castle that we are unaware of.”

Wormtail began shaking his head vigorously. “The castle was well mapped when I was a boy. As one of the mappers, I know this place better than almost anyone. There are no other secret passages, and certainly none capable of moving that many people.”

Voldemort eyed the man, tapping his fingers on his wand. He knew that Wormtail’s statement wasn’t quite accurate. The Room of Hidden Things was unknown to Wormtail and his little band of friends. And Potter only managed to stumble upon it by accident. But if there was one room that none but he knew of, then who was to say that there weren’t more?

“Wormtail. You will recreate your map. Use whatever resources you need,” Voldemort commanded. “And while you are at it, search for any other hidden rooms or passages that are not known to you.”

Wormtail’s beady eyes widened slightly before he nodded.

“Bellatrix. I want you to go to Diagon Alley. Reinforce to the populace there that we still have their children in our care. Yaxley, go to Umbridge. Make sure that she issues a statement to that extent as well. Potter, Bones and Black are sure to try to tell the people of Wizarding Britain that their children were taken from us. The Ministry is to deny this and declare their tales as nothing but lies,” Voldemort stated savagely.

“Yes, my Lord,” Yaxley replied, bowing his head.

“And someone find me Nagini!” Voldemort ordered.

-oOoOo-

The lawn of Diricawl Academy was teeming with students. Some were sitting, chatting; others were wandering around, examining everything. Off in an open area, there was a massive game of football happening. It’d started with the traditional eleven on eleven, but with so many people watching and wanting to join in, somehow, it’d become almost a free for all. The quidditch pitch was similarly being well utilised with a massive pickup game currently in progress.

Other parts of the Academy were also being used by their guests. Every one of the rooms in the Sports Hall was full and the pool was nearly filled to the brim with bodies splashing and yelling and having the time of their lives.

The less adventurous were visiting the smaller part of the island where the school’s animals were kept, marvelling at seeing so many diverse species in such a small space. Or else, they were sitting in the library reading or playing quiet board games.

Having the combined Hogwarts and Diricawl students occupied was a necessity; there simply wasn’t enough space inside the school to house them all and the adults could easily foresee fights and arguments happening if the kids were confined too long.

Sirius, Remus and Cygnus were doing what they could to alleviate the burden on the school, but that was going to take time. The hovercraft could hold a maximum of fifty people, but in the rough water, they agreed that it was better to limit each load to forty. That meant eight trips from the island to the yacht in order to transport the entire Hogwarts contingent, students and professors.

The biggest problem was that the boat couldn’t be ‘parked’ too close to the island due to the wards that kept the school safe. And those same wards also needed very precise manoeuvring for the hovercraft to navigate in and out of. Thus, each trip took forty minutes. Each way. Plus, loading and unloading at each end. With all of those factors in mind, there simply wasn’t enough daylight to complete the transfers in a single day.

Thus, the three men were taking it slowly and carefully, aiming for half the kids each day.

The added bonus of having the students occupied was that it was easier for important meetings to be held without interference or the worry of being overheard.

“If I was Riddle, I’d be making sure that the Ministry counters anything that we say,” Moody stated. “If we say we’ve got the kids out, they say we’re lying. Who are they going to believe – us or the Death Eaters?”

“Moody’s right,” Croaker agreed. “If I was one of those parents, there’s no way that I’d take a chance on a ‘what if’. Better to play it safe and know your kids aren’t being harmed than to do something and later find out you were wrong and your kid suffered for it.”

“Then how do we convince them? What proof can we offer?” Amelia asked exasperatedly.

“The population will only believe us if they _see_ the kids,” Kingslay stated.

Moody growled. “There’s no way I’m walking those kids down the middle of Diagon Alley. We’d all be killed before we made it to the far end.”

“What about a picture?” Harry asked. “They’d believe that wouldn’t they?’

“A picture could be magically changed. Not to mention that the Death Eaters could counter with one of their own – take one from a memory or something similar,” Amelia stated, shaking her head.

“Not if we make the picture inarguable,” Hermione countered. “Have them holding a sign with today’s date. Make sure Harry and some of us are in it, too.”

“That’d work!” Harry said excitedly, “especially if it was taken in front of Diricawl with our logo nice and easy to see.”

“Nice idea, kid, but how are you going to get it so everyone can see it?” Moody asked sarcastically. “The _Prophet_ won’t print it; we don’t have enough owls to deliver it to everyone and even if we did, they’d be dead before they delivered most of it, same as if we went door to door; the wireless is for _verbal_ news only; and we’re cut off from the FLOO system.”

“Moody’s right,” Croaker said. “All of the usual ways simply won’t work.”

“If the normal ways won’t work, then we need something _ab_ normal,” Harry countered. “What we need is someone who can think out of the box, someone whose minds are completely twisted.”

There was a sudden scrambling at the door before it opened to reveal a pair of identical red-heads.

“We hear that you …” one began with a smile.

“Require our services,” the other finished.

“And what makes you two think that Potter was talking about you?” Moody asked suspiciously.

“Well, he _did_ use the phrase ‘completely twisted’,” Fred stated with a nod.

“Not to mention wanting someone who can think out of the box,” George added.

“If that’s not us …” Fred said.

“Then we don’t know _who_ it could be,” George finished.

“And how could you two know that?” Moody asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Ask us no questions …” said George.

“And we’ll tell you no lies,” added Fred.

“They definitely don’t think like any of us,” Amelia sighed. “Alright, get in here. “We’ll talk about your eavesdropping later.”

The two grinned at each other before eagerly scrambling forward and pulling up a pair of chairs, twisted them around so that the backs were to the table and straddled them, arms folded and eager expressions on their faces.

“So, you want to get a picture where everyone can see it?” Fred stated.

“Somewhere where the most number of people will see it,” added George.

“After all, the more who see …” said Fred.

“The better the word of mouth is,” George agreed.

“It’d need to be big,” said Fred.

George nodded. “No point doing anything small.”

“Right you are, brother, bigger _is_ always better,” Fred agreed.

“Unless you know how to use it, of course,” George countered.

“Goes without saying, brother,” Fred nodded.

“Luckily, I have the size _and_ know how to use it,” George grinned.

“BOYS!” Amelia shouted. “I’m not sure, but I suspect that you’re getting off topic.”

“Right.”

“Sorry,” not that either twin looked sorry in the slightest.

“Now, where were we?” George asked.

“Bigger is better,” Fred supplied.

“Right. For that we’d need it to be projected for all to see,” George nodded.

“Do we really _want_ everyone to see it?” Fred asked.

“Well, yes,” George replied, looking nonplussed at his brother. “It’s a picture, isn’t it?”

“A picture. Yes. Sorry. Got lost there for a moment,” Fred replied.

“We’d want the picture to pop up randomly.”

“No point having it predictable and easy to destroy before the right people see it.”

“Decoy detonators,” they said together.

“Modified, of course,” George added.

“Runes to project …”

“An enlargement charm …”

“You thinking a memory strand?” Fred asked his brother.

“Of course,” George replied, looking hurt at the insinuation that he was considering something else. “Miniscule, though; a single image.”

The two stared at each other for nearly a minute before both suddenly looked at Amelia.

“When do you need it by?” George asked.

“Only we could probably have a prototype ready by tomorrow …”

“If we worked at it nonstop between now and then.”

Amelia blinked at them. “That would be fine.”

“I’ll organise the photo, shall I?” Harry grinned.

“Mum’s got a camera, if that helps,” Hermione added. “Not to mention Colin.”

“Cheers, guys, that’d be a big help,” Fred said.

Then, with a single nod, the two jumped up and dashed away.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Moody practically sighed. “If they’d kept on much longer I was going to silence them and hang them upside down from the Astronomy attic.”

“Well, we did _say_ that we needed someone who thought differently and you can’t argue that those two are pretty darn unique,” Harry said.

Moody grunted as he shook his head.

“We’ll wait until we see what they come up with before we work out how and where to distribute the things,” Croaker said.

-oOoOo-

Once the idea for the photo was passed around, including the reason for it, there was a huge swarm of volunteers to be included in it. Emma was quickly found and more than one roll of film was used up by all the different combinations. Colin, too, got into the act, taking enough pictures to leave a haze of purple smoke over the area by the time he finished.

The largest was a combined Hogwarts and Diricawl photo, nearly a hundred strong, all wearing their school uniforms to make it easy to see that they were there together. Then there was a straight Gryffindor photo with Harry and Hermione; Ravenclaw House with Minerva and Neville; and Daphne and Sirius (during one of the brief moments he was off of the hovercraft) with both Hufflepuff and Slytherin Houses. Smaller groups and bigger groups had their picture taken as well.

And every single photo had one reoccurring theme – a large placard with the day’s date written on it.

Once Emma had run out of film and Colin had taken enough pictures, Colin raced off to his darkroom to develop them.

Meanwhile, neither Fred nor George had been seen. It was made known to all that they had taken over one of the potions labs when massive explosions began to be heard coming from the upstairs window, promptly followed by a slightly blackened red head sticking out and waving and grinning at all those below staring up at them. Molly, meanwhile, simply shook her head and told everyone that that was normal and that it was best to leave them be.

After Colin had finished, the pictures were shown around and, after much debate, three were chosen as candidates before being taken upstairs and cautiously passed under the door for the twins to use.

-oOoOo-

Fred and George appeared so suddenly at the table containing the adults the next morning at breakfast, without anyone noticing their approach, that Moody whipped his wand out at them.

“Don’t do that,” he growled. “Next time, I might not stop the hex.”

“I’m assuming that the two of you have your object ready?” Amelia asked, noting the grin on the boy’s faces.

Moody shot a hand up, stopping either from speaking. “You will speak one at a time. You gave me a ruddy headache yesterday.”

Fred and George looked at each other with puzzled looks.

“We always only speak …” Fred stated.

“One at a time …” George agreed.

“Independently …”

“Without speaking over the top of the other …”

“Or interrupting,” Fred finished.

“We will admit …”

“That there are times …”

“When we speak simultaneously …”

“Like now,” they said in unison.

“But if it gives you a headache …”

“We’ll make sure not to do that again,” George finished solemnly.

Moody simply glowered at them and began grumbling under his breath, both eyes fixated on the pair as he fingered his wand.

“If you’re quite done terrorising Master Auror Moody, the man responsible for defeating the strongest Death Eaters in the last war, killing a large number of them and putting the rest in Azkaban,” Amelia said, “shall we get on with it?”

Fred and George glanced at each other, visibly gulped and glanced at Moody’s now grinning face.

“I think that’s a very good idea,” George said.

Amelia waited a beat, staring at Fred, expecting his comment, but it never came.

“Very well,” Amelia said, gesturing them onwards.

Fred pulled something out of his pocket and placed a small black object on the table. It was vaguely humanoid, having a round body and two feet, but it was armless and its head was shaped like a diamond.

“This is a modified decoy detonator,” Fred explained. “Ordinarily, it’s designed so that, when it’s dropped, it will scurry off in a random direction and a few minutes later, will produce a loud, annoying sound accompanied by a puff of smoke. The smoke gives it a chance to escape, scurry off somewhere else and do it again.”

“This modified version, though,” George said, taking up the explanation, “will perform the same function, except that instead of a puff of smoke, it will produce a large image in the air. We’ve tinkered with it as much as we could, adding runes to enlarge the image to the point where it doesn’t go out of focus. The best we could do is three feet wide and two feet tall.”

“The projection doesn’t actually start until it’s four feet off the ground,” Fred added, “so we hoped that that would make it easier for people to see.”

“Let’s see it,” Amelia stated.

George lifted the device off the table, poked his wand at its feet – “so that it doesn’t wander off” – and dropped it onto the ground.

A half minute later, the top part of the device’s diamond head opened like a petal and a shimmering light burst forth. Every eye in the room was drawn to the giant image of the combined Hogwarts and Diricawl crowd in front of the main Academy building. In the very front, held by Harry on one side and Neville on the other, was yesterday’s date on a giant placard.

“It’s not moving,” Remus stated.

George nodded. “It was much easier to simply go with a single image. Adding in motion would have meant a time frame even if it was only a couple of seconds. We could probably add that, but it’d mean an extra couple of days’ worth of work and we understood that you wanted these as quickly as possible.”

“It’s perfect,” Kingsley stated, a sentiment that was promptly echoed by all those who saw it, not only at the table, but at adjacent tables as well.

Even Mad-Eye gave a satisfied grunt and a nod of his head.

“How many of these do you have?” Amelia asked.

Fred and George looked at each other.

“This is just the prototype,” Fred explained, “so just this one.”

“How many did you want?” George asked.

“How many can you make within two days?” Amelia asked.

Fred and George held a private conversation for a moment before shrugging.

“By ourselves, maybe half a dozen,” George replied. “But if we could get some help, we could easily do a couple dozen in that time.”

Amelia looked around the room at not only the other adults but also at the eager-looking students.

“I think I can get you that help,” she said. “Merlin help me, but for the next two days, you boys are in charge; what do you need us to do?”

-oOoOo-

A special edition of _The Daily Prophet_ arrived just after lunch. The reason for its printing was exactly as Moody had predicted – a special announcement given by Minster of Magic Delores Umbridge, obviously given at the behest of Voldemort.

The article took up most of the front page with a large picture of Umbridge in the Ministry’s Atrium off to one side of the article.

_Ministry Decries Subversive Rumours  
by Rita Skeeter_

_A strong message was given to the people of magical Britain yesterday by Minister for Magic Delores Umbridge._

_It appears to this reporter that our Ministry has remained very much in charge of the country, despite these uncertain times. This morning’s statement from Minister Umbridge came before the rumours that the Minister speaks of had even reached the ears of this very reporter, which tells us that we can trust our Ministry to stay on top of anything that threatens to undermine our society, be that person, action or even word._

_“It has come to the Ministry of Magic’s attention that subversive rumours are being spread the length and breadth of our country,” Minister Umbridge stated. “The Ministry of Magic would like to reassure the people of magical Britain that their children being educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are all doing wonderfully well, learning their lessons and are in excellent health and spirits._

_“These are the facts, my dear witches and wizards of magical Britain. Any rumour that you hear to the contrary can be dismissed as lies; lies spread by known Undesirables in an unsuccessful attempt to undermine this administration and the Leader of Magical Britain._

_“If anyone has any information on Undesirables Amelia Bones, Harry Potter, Sirius Black or any of the other named Undesirables, I urge you to do the right thing. Tell someone in authority. Do not approach these dangerous liars and criminals yourself, let our wonderful aurors do their job.”_

“Gah,” Moody exclaimed, throwing the paper down in disgust. “More propaganda, just like we expected. I hope those toys of those twins do their job.”

“All we can do is distribute them and hope for the best,” Croaker said. “Now, let’s get back to that pensieve; Dumbledore left us with a lot of memories and I’m sure that the answer to the last horcrux is buried somewhere in one of those vials.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Well, they’ll definitely do the job,” Sirius stated, staring at the large floating picture that was projected into the air in front of his face.

“The question is simply whether or not the people will believe what they are seeing,” Remus said.

“What’s not to believe?” Harry asked. “There’s over a hundred students shown being here at Diricawl where they never have been before. Add in the date that it was taken and they _have_ to believe it.”

“Are you forgetting that we live in world of magic?” Hermione asked. “Logic doesn’t seem to apply much with most people here.”

“It’s inevitable that at least some of your little things are going to get caught,” Remus pointed out to the twins. “You do realise that your design is going to be confiscated by the Ministry, don’t you?”

Fred and George grinned back at the senior Marauder.

“Let them try,” George said.

“We’ve built in enough security features to make them think twice about trying it ever again,” Fred added.

Sirius frowned at the two. “Even I can see the rune clusters etched into the opened diamond.”

“Ah, but that’s our secret,” Fred grinned back.

“Hide the security in plain sight …” George said.

“And anyone who tries to copy our Photo Bomber will never know what hits them,” Fred finished.

“Photo Bomber?” Harry asked.

Fred nodded. “Yep, that’s what we’ve named them. Took it from some muggle thing Colin was talking about once.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to satisfy our curiosity?” Remus asked.

“Seeing as it’s just you four here, certainly,” George replied.

“As you pointed out, you can see the rune clusters that make the Photo Bomber work,” Fred began.

“What you don’t realise is that three of those clusters have absolutely nothing to do with how this little guy works,” George stated.

“In fact, they have absolutely no active magic applied to them,” said Fred.

“And that’s the beauty of it,” George beamed. “Anyone who copies out those rune clusters and then activates them …”

“Activates the security,” the finished together.

“Ingenious,” Remus nodded.

“You mean to tell me that the only way the security kicks in is if someone _tries_ to copy your design and power it up?” Sirius laughed.

“Yep,” the twins beamed. “And depending on which one they activate, they’ll either cause a magical imbalance, overloading the other rune clusters and making them inert; vanish about eighty percent of all the runes carved here; or make the Photo Bomber into a true bomb when it blows up in their face.”

“Remind me never to try to copy one of your designs without your permission,” Harry said with a shiver.

“No worries, Harrikins, we know you’d never do anything like that anyway,” George replied clapping him on the shoulder.

They were interrupted by Amelia, Croaker, Kingsley and Minerva entering the room.

“Alright, boys, how many of your little toys do you have? I’d like to have them deployed mid-morning,” Amelia stated.

“Thirty-one,” Fred replied.

“That should be plenty,” Kingsley smiled. “Thank you.”

“We aim to please,” George replied.

“And we’ll always do our bit to help out,” added Fred.

“Here you go, they’re all in here,” said George, handing over a black bag with a tie cord.

“Thank you. We’ll get these distributed to our volunteers,” Amelia said.

-oOoOo-

Tonks took a seat vaguely in the middle of the _Leaky Cauldron_. Currently, she was nursing a butterbeer, but a butterbeer that had had a surreptitious colour change charm applied to it. After all, who would want to go near a hag drinking something blood red? And the best bit was that even if anyone was suspicious of her, her metamorph abilities meant that any magic cancelling charms would have absolutely no effect.

Try as she might, Tonks simply couldn’t help but keep a close eye on her partner. The fact that he was now known as Undesirable Number One and considered the most wanted person in all of magical Britain made her extremely nervous. Only the fact that he, too, was a metamorphmagus, knew how to take care of himself and was seated closest to the door leading to muggle London – as agreed – meant that he’d been allowed on this mission.

Glancing at the old grandfather clock in the corner, Tonks saw that she still had more than enough time to enjoy her drink before she had to drop the Photo Bombers.

-oOoOo-

Beth stepped from the back door of her home above _Hermione’s Book Nook_ and began to head down the stairs. The target that she’d been given to drop her Photo Bomber was Madam Malkins Robes For All Occasions. The fact that Madam Malkin herself was a known gossip only worked in their favour.

If she hurried, Beth thought that she’d have just enough time to purchase a couple of sets of new robes for Mickey; he’d been growing like a weed of late and his ankles were showing _again_. And if she just happened to see something for herself while she was there, well, that’d just be a bonus.

-oOoOo-

Brendan Abbot and Horatio Moon wandered slowly down Diagon Alley. Just like everyone else out shopping, they stuck close to one side of the street, afraid to stray too far from cover in case of the unexpected.

Shortly, they’d need to separate, Brendan to head back up towards the Leaky Cauldron, Horatio to cross to the opposite side and work his way further down towards Gringotts.

At this moment, they knew that Alexander Davis and Godfrey Spinnet were at the other end of the Alley, mirroring their movements, working themselves into their positions.

Their aim was that, by the time that the agreed upon time was reached, the four would be spaced fairly equidistance through the Alley when they released their Photo Bombers, thus maximising the potential number of people that would see the picture.

With luck, one of the pictures would be seen by the goblins who Chert assured them would be keeping a very close eye on the Alley, even though they themselves were not to be seen and the great doors to Gringotts was firmly closed to all. Exactly what their reaction to it would be was anyone’s guess, but they held out hope that the goblins would participate in some way in the war.

-oOoOo-

Croaker glided effortlessly through the crowds of Ministry workers in the Atrium, a satisfied smile on his lips. The Ministry may be overrun by Death Eaters but the very sight of an Unspeakable cloak was still more than enough to inspire fear into the general populace and a wide berth given to the person wearing one.

He may have the largest job, the biggest area in which to disperse the ingenious little devices but he was confident that he could accomplish it alone. He knew the back stairwells in the Ministry of Magic building intimately; indeed, most didn’t even know that they existed.

The little titbit that he heard as he weaved his way through the crowd altered his plans slightly – apparently there was a Wizengamot meeting today. Mentally, he revised exactly where he’d release his allotment of devices.

_A little Unspeakable magic on the lifts,_ he thought, _should do the trick._

That would leave him ample devices for both the Wizengamot and the Atrium. He was looking forward to seeing the reactions from the various Ministry workers; Croaker expected that he was going to enjoy himself

-oOoOo-

Kingsley had been the last to leave Diricawl for his designated delivery position. The fact that it was within sight of Voldemort’s new base of power meant that he had no desire to be in Hogsmeade any long than absolutely necessary.

Walking into the _Three Broomsticks_ , Kingsley quickly surveyed the room. It was about a third full, an expected amount and more than enough to ensure that, with what was about to happen, the word would be spread quickly and widely.

Walking up to the bar, he ordered himself a fire whiskey. After all, he needed to be seen to have a reason for coming in here.

It certainly had absolutely nothing to do with any sort of liquid courage the potent drink had to offer; he was a seasoned auror, after all.

-oOoOo-

It was still a little before the agreed upon time but Croaker knew that he had to act now or lose his window of opportunity.

Currently, he was standing against one wall in the visitor’s gallery looking down upon the Wizengamot. Or, at least, what remained of it.

Traditionally, there were three factions, voting blocks really, that stuck together and supported each other in regards to bills and agendas – the Lights, the Neutrals and the Darks. The numbers in each faction tended to vary slightly, with one having more sway over the others for a year or two before the number of votes changed again.

Now though, now that was gone. There was nothing of the Light faction left. What remained of the Neutrals was only those who leant heavily towards the Dark. Still, not all of the Dark faction, the Traditionalist faction if you will, were bad people, they simply wanted life, society to continue without interruption, without the threat that the way they always did things would change.

And a lot of those people had children, grandchildren or in some cases, great-grandchildren at Hogwarts. Croaker was positive that they wouldn’t like what had been happening at their old Alma Mater.

With that thought in mind, Croaker palmed two of the devices, leant back and tossed them from the gallery, over the seated heads and empty chairs of the Wizengamot and onto the floor in the middle of the chamber.

Thirty seconds later, a great _boom_ silenced the crowd and had everyone staring down only to see two identical, large photos hovering in mid-air.

“What is the meaning of this?” a high-pitched simpering voice asked into the cacophony of voices that had erupted throughout the Chamber.

Croaker, though, had no intention of waiting around to find out if anyone bothered to answer the pink toad.

Still under the notice-me-not charm that he’d applied before entering the Wizengamot meeting, Croaker slipped out, up the nearby stairs and around to the very bottom floor of the elevators that everyone in the building used to get around.

Utilizing his Unspeakable override, Croaker called the four elevators to him. Thankfully, all were empty when they arrived. It was then a simple matter to apply a magic-repelling and people-repelling charm across the open doorway of each one, having already sealed a device in each elevator and having pressed the button for each floor. He stepped back and watched as they slowly _clanged_ their way upwards.

His last stop was the Atrium itself. There, he weaved his way through the crowd, including doing a complete circle of the Fountain of Brethren, dropping devices here and there, before making his way to the visitor’s entrance.

Cries were erupting all behind him as he boarded the red telephone box. He easily identified confusion, surprise, some little anger and, underneath it all, the vestiges of hope starting to rekindle.

-oOoOo-

“Commander!” two startled voices called.

Instantly, the Commander of Guards strode forth. His axe was ready in one hand, a shield on the opposite arm and countless knives around his belt, in his boots and strapped to his arm. He was the very epitome of a Goblin Battle Warrior. He’d earnt his place the hard way, rising up from the very ranks, defeating opponent after opponent in the pits and foe after foe in the deep tunnels.

“What is it?” he barked at his underlings, his eyes narrowed.

These two were not acting as good guards should and he contemplated replacing them, sending them back Below and promoting two others who were more worthy. Sounding startled indicated that they’d been surprised. Being surprised meant that they were not paying attention. Being inattentive meant certain death for themselves, their squad and ultimately for their Clan and Nation.

“An image is being projected, I know not how,” one reported.

“An image? You dare summon me for an image that can do us no harm?” the Commander snarled.

“I cannot explain it, Commander. One moment the Alley was clear of all but a few wizards going about their business, the next there was a blast of sound and this image,” the other guard elaborated, gesturing towards the viewing wall.

After glaring at the two for a full dozen breaths, the Commander stomped up to the viewing wall that allowed the Goblins to see out without the wand-wielders being able to see in.

A small crowd had formed in the Alley, all surrounding an image, just as the guards had reported, hanging in mid-air. The Commander frowned at it, wondering why such an image had the human adults seeming so excited. A shift in the crowd allowed him to see better.

He identified human young, teenagers by the size of them, over a hundred in all, all smiling with too many dull teeth and not a real weapon in sight, wearing a combination of two different uniforms. A large sign with a date, only two days removed, was prominently displayed. That sign led his eyes to the ones holding it and the Commander’s eyes widened.

Spinning about, he eyeballed a pair of his subordinates.

“Summon Account Keeper Slipshard and Manager Ragnok,” he ordered. “There’s something that they need to see.”

-oOoOo-

Tonks put her acting skills to good use as the half dozen bursts of noise sounded throughout the room of the _Leaky Cauldon_. At each successive blast, she jumped, making sure to spill some of her drink the first time and even a little more at the second.

Whipping her head around, her eyes big in surprise and alarm allowed Tonks to see the door of the tavern swing closed, blocking off access to the muggle world. The fact that Harry was gone made her nod. Exactly as planned.

Cries of surprise and alarm sounded all around her as the glowing picture of the combined Hogwarts and Diricawl students appeared at various places around the room.

Tonks took a sip of what was left of her red-tinged butterbeer as she listened to the reactions around her.

“Where’d it come from?”

“That can’t be real, can it?”

“The Ministry said that Bones and Black were spreading rumours, but this …”

“There’s … there’s David! That’s my boy. He’s supposed to be in Hogwarts, I thought he was at Hogwarts!”

“Gotta be a trick, don’t it?”

“There’s no way that could be right; musta been taken ages ago.”

“When, though? Surely that sort of meet up between the schools would have made the _Prophet_ when it did.”

“Look there! That’s Mabel’s granddaughter. Caroline, I think her name is. I know for a fact that she’s a Hogwarts student, but look at her, she’s _wearing one of those weird hat things_ that the Diricawl kids wear.”

“What if it is real? What if somehow those kids were _rescued_?”

This last was whispered, accompanied by a host of nervous looks, both by the speaker and by those around him.

“But the Ministry says …”

“What if they’re covering it up? Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“This is dangerous talk. Not for places like this where the wrong ears could hear.”

The shuffling of feet was a dead giveaway for the nervousness of those in the group.

“Where do you reckon it came from, though?”

“There’s a little black thing down there. The picture’s coming out of its head.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But where’d _it_ come from?”

Tonks continued listening, sipping occasionally. When the time seemed right, that her exit wouldn’t draw any suspicions and she’d heard enough, she dropped a couple of coins on the table and left.

-oOoOo-

Kingsley expected to be the first back. In that, he was wrong, finding Croaker in the Security Office awaiting the return of the others.

“How’d it go?” the Unspeakable asked.

“No problems,” Kingsley reported. “The Photo Bombers worked perfectly and everyone saw the picture.”

“Reactions?” Croaker asked.

Kingsley shrugged. “Surprise, suspicion, disbelief, wonder, exactly as we hoped. More than that, I’ve got no idea; didn’t stick around all that long. We’re just going to have to wait for the others to report back what they saw and heard.”

“And more importantly, keep our ear to the ground to find out what the reaction of the general population is,” Croaker stated.

-oOoOo-

Alastor sat back in his chair, staring at the table before him with both eyes, his real one as well as his magical one. On the small table beside him sat an opened bottle of fire whiskey – thoroughly tested for potions and poisons, of course – as well as a tumbler half full of the liquid. It was still the first drink that he’d poured, left there as a reward for when he’d reached a decision.

The objects of his focus were an old stone basin, its circumference covered in a plethora of runes to make it work. Beside it was an opened box containing dozens of small vials, all with a silvery substance swirling inside them. Lastly, just in front of the other two, was a thin book full of handwritten notes.

Alastor had spent the better part of the past two days immersed in these items. The silvery substance in the vials were memories, a label stating the basics of what each one contained. Using those labels, combined with the notes that Dumbledore had left, Alastor had been intently searching for the one most important object that they needed to find.

Riddle’s last remaining horcrux.

With the inadvertent destruction of the two Horcruxes at Hogwarts by Longbottom and Riddle himself, albeit accidentally, they were closer than ever to making the Dark Lord mortal once again. And mortal meant killable. There was just this one last obstacle.

It was some of the earliest memories that he’d been focussing on; ones where Riddle was still a teen at Hogwarts and the ones that focussed on Riddle immediately after he graduated.

The boy’s interest in Founders objects was clear as the light of day. That corresponded to the horcruxes that they’d already destroyed – Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup and now Ravenclaw’s diadem. Even the diary linked in to the theme – it led the person it was possessing to Slytherin’s Chamber and Slytherin’s monster.

The object that Alastor – and Dumbledore, judging by the notes in the book – was focussing on was the ring that Riddle wore for a couple of years. He knew from Harry that it was the Peverell Head of House ring. And the Peverells were connected to a number of interesting families. Apart from Potter, there was a direct line to Slytherin – there it was again – and the House of Gaunt. And Gaunt just so happened to be the family that Riddle’s mother’s family came from.

While Dumbledore’s notes seemed to say that Albus didn’t think that the ring would be in such an obvious place as the Gaunt ancestral home, Alastor wasn’t so quick to rule it out. At the very least, he thought it was worth a look.

“Looks like I’m going for a little field trip,” he said to himself.

Then, decision make, he reached out, grabbed the tumbler and threw the fire whiskey down his throat, not even fazed by the belch of flame that erupted from his mouth immediately afterwards.


	13. Chapter 13

Mad-eye stood perfectly still under a tree, his good eye staring at the sign just across the road while his magical eye continuously shifted about, searching for any hidden dangers. He may be concealed with a bevy of disillusionment charms, notice-me-nots, odour dampening spells and sound dampening spells on his boot, clawed foot and the end of his walking staff, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still vulnerable.

He was out from under the powerful wards of Diricawl Academy, wards that he felt relatively safe enough to drop his guard while he was under them, at least to a small amount. Added to that, he was in the muggle world, a world which boasted its own set of hazards and dangers on top of all of the usual ones. Lastly was the fact of _where_ he was, attested to by the sign that had part of his attention.

Greater Hangleton was apparently thirteen miles to his right; Little Hangleton, two miles to his left. And Little Hangleton, according to Dumbledore’s notes, was where Riddle’s parents had once lived, the muggles in some large manor house, the Gaunts in a hovel in some woods nearby.

Mad-eye knew that he could have simply apparated to Little Hangleton, but appearing in possibly enemy territory, without knowing what was waiting for you was akin to a death sentence. No, Mad-eye hadn’t lived for as long as he had by being a reckless Gryffindor and rushing in. Going in on foot, the muggle way, made much more sense.

Having assured himself of his destination, Mad-eye set off along the road to Little Hangleton, after all, the road left no footprints for anyone to follow.

The absence of his usual _stomp, click_ when he walked was at first jarring in its absence but he quickly focussed on his other senses, listening for the sound of voices, muggle automobiles or the sound of footsteps or leaves or twigs being broken by someone trying to sneak up on him.

Rounding the bend to the top of a small hill, Mad-eye paused and leant on his staff, taking in the view. There were three particular spots that he could see that had his auror senses tingling.

The first was a graveyard. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it. It looked old, with a lot of the headstones being weatherworn and beginning to slump. What was most interesting about it was its location. _This_ , Mad-eye was certain, was where that fool Fudge was killed and Riddle was resurrected. One of the few rituals that would have created a body for the spirit of Riddle to inhabit needed the ‘bone of the father’. And if that ingredient was anywhere, it was in that graveyard.

The second thing that caught Mad-eye’s attention related to the first – the old Riddle manor house. Or at least, what remained of it. Part of one wall was standing on the southern side and the chimney, oddly enough, was still intact. The rest of the old manor, though, looked to have been consumed in a fire. Mad-eye’s mind harkened back to the tale of the dragon that was portkeyed in to Riddle’s headquarters, killing dozens and destroying the place. There was no doubt in Mad-eye’s mind exactly where that was any longer.  

If he was not mistaken, whoever had helped Riddle get his body back – Lucius Malfoy, most likely – would have needed a base of operations. And what better place than one that Riddle had some claim over and was close to one of the important ingredients for the ritual?

The third and last feature that Mad-eye could see from his vantage point was the _most_ interesting of all. It was a wood that butted right up against the road a little down from where he currently stood. The trees were close together, thick and tangled, making the shadows deep and dark, obscuring what was inside from view.  It gave off a dark, menacing vibe, all but screaming to everyone who saw it to ‘stay away!’. Mad-eye could almost _taste_ the magic in the air, wards at the very least and powerful ones at that.

All three features needed to be checked, of course, but if Mad-eye was a betting man, he’d lay money on finding what he was looking for in the heart of that dark forest.

-oOoOo-

The cemetery had been a bust; there was neither any active magic there nor any indication of there having been anything of a magical nature anytime recently. Not that Mad-eye was at all surprised – the ritual to give Riddle his new body back being over twelve months past.

The old manor house, or at least what remained of it, was a nightmare to check. It’d taken Mad-eye hours to check the detritus that littered the property. Charred planks of wood and blackened bricks had needed to be levitated away and then detection charms applied to ensure that there was neither any active magic or residue of past spells present.

The cellar had been the one room of the old manor that had remained, but it too, after it had been searched from top to bottom – twice, mind you – also turned out to be a bust.

Having checked and eliminated the two most unlikely features of this part of Little Hangleton, Mad-eye moved on to the third and the one that he held the most hope out for.

The forest.

An eight foot tall, six foot wide tangled hedge ran along the side of the road, separating it from the forest beyond and Mad-eye made sure to walk the length of it. Periodically, his wand appeared in his hand and he tested the magic beyond the hedge. It was there, neither increasing in strength nor decreasing, obviously a wall of magic of some kind surrounding the prize in the centre. The hedge, though, made the perfect first line of defence – unable to be penetrated by normal, muggle means.

After nearly two dozen probing searches with his magic over the hedge, Mad-eye blinked and stopped. He frowned at the hedge, hiding the fact that the magical barrier beyond it had disappeared.

“Found a corner, have I?” he wondered.

Getting past the hedge to traverse the next section of the magical ‘wall’ needed a little thought. In the end, Mad-eye went for the simple approach.

“ _Contorquet gladii!_ ” he intoned, swirling his wand in a circle before slashing the insides of the circle with an ‘X’.

A pair of flaming orange stripes of magic whipped out of his wand, spinning hard in a circle, slashing everything in its path. Leaves, twigs and bits of branch were mown down straight through the hedge to leave a gaping, round hole for Mad-eye to climb through.

And then came the hard part – traversing the forest, following the edge of the wall of magic. Mad-eye may have grumbled and complained the entire way but he did it. Hundreds of times, his cloak caught on something or his clawed foot tripped him up or he had to use his staff or wand to cut himself through.

By the time that he had made his way down the other three sides, Mad-eye’s cloak and clothes were ripped and torn, twigs were caught in his hair and spider’s webs clung to his arms, legs and chest. On top of all that, he was tired, sore and he’d had enough of nature to last him the rest of his life.

Despite that, though, he was more convinced than ever that he was on the right track. Not once had the magic of the wall that he’d been following dropped slightly. Whatever was powering it was doing an impressive job.

Sitting on the stump of an old log, Mad-eye took a swig from his hip flask and considered.

With magic that powerful, he knew that he was out of his depth. As an auror and a Master Auror at that, he had a more than passing knowledge of curses, charms, spells and he like. He knew counters to almost every piece of magic. He could strip away the usual stuff and once or twice had even managed to beat a very simple ward scheme that had been hastily thrown up in an attempt to protect a coven of hags.

This, though, he was out of his depth for. Wards like this, which was the only thing that could produce that kind of magical wall, was way beyond his expertise. _That_ was what curse-breakers were for. Unfortunately, he had no idea where he was going to find one.

Mad-eye knew one thing for sure though, sitting around drinking in the middle of a forest wasn’t going to make one fall from the sky into his lap. No, if he wanted one, he was going to have to do something about it.

Right after he managed to get out of this Merlin-be-damned forest and trudged a safe distance away. No point in announcing to everyone that he’d been there, now was there?

-oOoOo-

“I’m telling you, it’s there,” Moody stated emphatically.

“Thought you knew better than to count all your nifflers before they’re born,” Croaker replied. “By your own account, all you’ve found is a magical protection barrier, a powerful ward, by the sound of it.”

“What else would it be?” Moody asked emphatically, leaning forward to emphasise his point and fixing both eyes on the man across from him. “Why else would _that_ particular place be warded like that? It was Riddle’s maternal family’s land. Where better to hide something?”

“You just said it yourself – that’s the Gaunt ancestral lands. An Ancient House, even if it was impoverished before it went extinct,” Croacker countered.

“Now you’re just playing silly-buggers,” Moody waved away the argument. “There’s no way that, even if the place _had_ wards in the first place, that they’d still be at that sort of level without someone to maintain them or charge them.” Moody held up a hand before Croaker could object again. “And I know what you’re going to say, they’re probably powered by ley lines. They’re not, I checked. The nearest line is too far away to have any impact on those wards.”

A knock at the door interrupted them and Moody’s magical eye instantly swivelled to take in who was on the other side and how much of a threat they posed.

“Come in, Molly,” Moody called.

The door swung open and Molly Weasley stuck her head in the door, looked around at the two men and sighed.

“Oh, Mister Croaker, good, you’re here,” Molly said in a rush.

“What can I do for you?” Croaker asked.

“There’s an owl for you down in the Security Office,” Molly replied. “The bird is quite insistent that you be the only one to take its letter. It looks like it has an Unspeakable seal on it.”

Croaker blinked in surprise and Moody grinned, enjoying being able to read the Unspeakable so easily.

“Thank you,” Croaker said, rising. He paused once he was standing and looked down at his friend. “What are you going to do?”

“Find a good curse breaker I can trust and go back,” Moody replied as though the answer was obvious.

“Where are you going to find one of them? The goblins employ the best and their doors are closed,” Croaker stated before nodding to both Moody and Molly before striding from the room.

“My eldest, Bill, is a curse breaker,” Molly volunteered, sounding nervous.

“Really?” Moody asked interested. “And where might he be?”

“Egypt. He works for the goblins,” Molly replied.

“Not much good to me there, is he?” Moody asked rhetorically.

“There might be a way,” Molly replied hesitantly. “I think that my twins, Fred and George, have a way to get a message to him.”

“Now _that_ _is_ usual. Where exactly are your twins right now?” Moody asked.

-oOoOo-

“Weasley!”

The guttural voice of the speaker who’d called his name was obviously goblin. Unfortunately, Bill was in the middle of a delicate part of disarming the rune scheme that activated the trap that guarded the burial chamber of Brekan, one of the more powerful of the Ancient Egyptian sorcerers that served Djoser back in the Third Dynasty of the Old Kingdom.

Ignoring his name, Bill pressed on, slithering forward half a foot on his stomach and reached forward with his arm outstretched, the very end of his wand between his fingers. A hair’s breadth above his head, a dozen swirling scimitars danced, all designed to not just incapacitate anyone who attempted to enter this passage, but to dismember them into as many pieces as possible.

Finally, with one last grunt, Bill managed to get his wand into position so that it just touched the right rune. Pushing his magic, he channelled it, not into the rune to power it, but into a simple stone cutting spell, minutely altering the rune and causing the entire array to instantly stop working.

The scimitars, without the magic to sustain them, spun widely out of control, clanging into each other or careening into the walls. _Tings_ of metal echoed in the passage and Bill’s eyes shot wide and he was sure that he’d just wet himself as the last of the swords landed, quivering, just in front of his eyes and between his outstretched arms.

“Weasley! I am not accustomed to having to wait,” the voice barked.

Looking back and around, Bill made out his boss standing twenty metres back, his arms crossed and one foot tapping. Jumping to his feet – now that it was safe to do so – Bill dusted himself off and trotted over.

“Sorry, Boss, couldn’t stop any sooner without killing myself,” Bill apologised.

“Training a new Curse Breaker of your skill would be costly,” Boondin stated, which Bill took as the closest way of apologising for interrupting his work as a goblin would ever give.

A small leather pouch was thrust at Bill and he took it carefully.

“Pay and documents you will need for your next assignment,” Boondin growled. “You’ve been reassigned.”

“What? Where?” a startled Bill asked. “We’re so close to getting into this tomb!”

“The Bank Manager of Gringotts London himself requested you,” Boondin stated.

“I thought Britain was closed?” Bill asked, taking a look in the pouch. “Hang on, this is all muggle – paper money, passport and a plane ticket?”

“Yours is a special case. No other employee of the goblins will enter Britain until your internal conflict is resolved. And only then after careful consideration,” Boondin informed him. “A contact will meet you upon your arrival. Go! Your muggle transportation leaves in two hours.”

“Yes, sir,” a still confused Bill replied before bowing acknowledgement and hurriedly striding towards the exit of the tomb, an exit that it would take at least a quarter of an hour to reach, eating up precious time.

-oOoOo-

Bill hitched his pack higher on his shoulder as he exited the tunnel from Arrivals at Heathrow International Airport. His passport had stood up to scrutiny, as one would expect from a goblin-produced document. Mind you, he had snorted – and immediately looked around in embarrassment – at seeing that his profession was listed as ‘archaeologist’.

His eyes darted all over the hall, looking for the person who was to be his contact point. Not once in any of the documents that he’d been given had it been stated who was to meet him here. The best that he could hope for was that he recognised the person as such when they contacted him.

Bill sighed in relief, though, at the shock of red-hair peeking over the crowd – there was no mistaking that particular colour. Weaving his way through the crowd, Bill made his way over, managing to get incredibly close with how distracted this particular person was with all of the muggles and muggle objects surrounding him. Really, it wasn’t all that bright sending his father here, as obsessed as he was.

“Dad!” he cried.

Arthur gave a jolt of surprise before accepting Bill’s hug, a huge smile on his face.

“Bill! How wonderful to see you. Did you just arrive on one of those aer-o-planes?” he asked slowly, obviously making an effort to get the word right and then smiling even more when he realised that he had.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bill replied. “What are you doing here? Better yet, what am _I_ doing here?”

“Not here,” a female voice stated.

Bill turned to see a girl just a little younger than him. It took him a few moments to place the somewhat familiar face.

“Tonks, right?’ he asked.

“That’s right, surprised you remember,” she smiled.

“Well, you did date my brother, Charlie” Bill stated.

“For all of about two months, years ago,” she retorted. “Let’s get moving, we don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.”

Bill looked at his father quizzically, but Arthur had simply nodded in agreement, grasped Bill’s upper arm and began guiding him away.

“Dad?” Bill tried again.

Arthur refused to answer, instead pulling him along until they reached a small door in the wall, that Tonks surreptitiously unlocked with her wand before opening it and pulling him inside.

“A broom closet? Seriously?” Bill asked, amused.

Tonky merely smiled him before holding out a quoit.

“Grab on,” she commanded.

Bill did so, a second before Arthur.

“Activate,” Tonks said, tapping it with her wand.

-oOoOo-

“Bill!” five voices yelled at once.

The oldest of the Weasley children had barely had time to ensure his balance after the portkey ride before five new, red-headed bodies slammed into him, nearly knocking him down. His mother was kissing his face over and over again, while Ginny was wrapped around him, squeezing so hard that it felt that she was likely to cut off circulation if she wasn’t careful. The twins and Ron had also given him a quick hug and hearty slap on the back before stepping back and simply grinning at him while the women did their ‘thing’.

“It’s great to see you all as well,” Bill told them all.

And it was. Ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had taken over and the British Ministry of Magic had fallen, news out of Magical Britain was scarce. Travellers weren’t permitted either way, in or out, with all portkeys and apparition stopped. Even owls were now being redirected away from the borders by all governments, both British trying to contain information to their shores, and foreign wanting to maintain the health of their flock.

“Now, can someone please tell me why I’m here?” he asked exasperatedly.

“That’d be me,” a gruff voice said from the doorway.

Bill’s eyes widened at the most famous auror from the last way.

“Mad-eye Moody,” he breathed.

“That’s right, lad. Glad I don’t have to introduce myself,” Moody said. “Come with me, your family can have you back later.”

“We will see him for dinner, won’t we?” Molly asked hopefully.

“No promises,” Moody grunted, before relenting slightly at her disappointed look. “But highly likely.

Moody led Bill from what turned out to be a small building away from the main complex of Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies and across the open ground. They walked in silence, Bill becoming more and more curious with each step but, after having worked with the goblins, used to the concept of only being told what you needed to know when you needed to know it and not a moment earlier. Didn’t mean that he liked it, but he could cope with it and knew how to keep his curiosity reined in.

Finally, they reached a copse of trees far from any other person.

“We can talk here without being overheard,” Moody stated. “You’re a curse breaker?”

“I am,” Bill replied, finally getting an inkling of why he was back in Britain.

“You’ve had experience getting through wards and traps?” Moody asked.

“Six years with the goblins; three as apprentice, three as a journeyman. Graduated as a fully-fledged curse-breaker in my own right four months ago,” Bill stated proudly. “I’ve had plenty of experience, mostly in Egypt, although I’ve had quite a number of expeditions to South America as well.”

“Good enough,” Moody nodded. “You know anything about horcruxes?”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Enough to know that they’re incredibly dangerous and should be destroyed as quickly as possible. I’ve never heard of a witch or wizard making one who wasn’t insane to one degree or another.”

“Got that right,” Moody grunted. “I got you here for a job that involves breaking through the protections that surround what I believe is a horcrux.”

The question of who it belonged to was on the tip of Bill’s tongue to ask before he reined it in. They were in Britain. A Britain ruled by a Dark Lord. There was only one possible candidate.

“What can you tell me about the site?” Bill asked.

“Not a lot,” Moody admitted. “I’ve circled it and felt the power that’s in the wards protecting whatever’s inside. Don’t know how they’re powered but I can tell you it’s not by ley lines. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s dozens of traps inside that magical barrier as well before we can get to where the horcrux is hidden.”

“That’d be a given,” Bill stated. “I’m assuming that we need this taken care of as soon as possible?”

“Aye,” Moody nodded. “And as quietly as possible. You up for it?”

Bill grinned at him. “You couldn’t keep me away. But not today. Tomorrow at the earliest. I need to get a decent night’s sleep before I tackle something like that.”

“Expected as much,” Moody agreed. “Get plenty of rest, then, kid. We leave at first light.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JK’s Albus Dumbledore described his retrieval of the ring horcrux as a “thrilling tale”. Hopefully, I’ve done it justice.

The sun was still low in the sky when Bill and Moody climbed through the hole in the hedge just outside of Little Hangleton that Moody had created the last time that he was there.

As before, Moody had apparated in a couple of miles from their destination, taking Bill side-along as he didn’t know where they were going. Moody had nodded approvingly when Bill didn’t even blink, let alone protest, at finding out that they were going to travel that distance on foot. In fact, the curse breaker gave the impression that he thought that it was a wise precaution.

Bill’s wand, like Moody’s own, was flickering about as they clamoured through the forest, away from the road and beside the wall of magic that blocked their progress from entering the area that they needed to go.

“Here,” Bill said, stopping at where Moody knew one of the corners to be.

After shucking off his pack and tossing it out of the way, Bill really seemed to get to work. His wand was waving in intricate patterns and his off-hand was up, obviously testing the magic ward in a different way.

 Moody sat back and watched, taking a swig of his flask to quench his thirst from the walk. He approved of this kid, he was exactly the right one to bring on his mission. Bill didn’t settle for the obvious and, just like the devils that were his twin brothers, seemed to think outside of the box.

Bill tested not just both sides of the corner of the wall, but also high up, as far as his magic would reach on the wall and then low close to the ground. Moody started when Bill’s wand switched from analysis to excavation, though.

A deep, wide trench was dug into the ground right beside the wall. Once it was over a meter deep and three times that long, Moody recognised Bill’s wand moving back into analysis mode.

Finally, the curse breaker stopped, wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow away and turned to Moody.

“You’re right, it’s damn powerful,” Bill stated.

“Can you bring it down?” Moody asked.

Bill frowned at the question. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that; pour enough power into it and you could brute force them down. Anyone with enough power could do it. But, there’s no telling what the consequences for _that_ would be, though. With the power there is behind these wards, there’s doubtless going to be dozens of traps, all of which would be, at the very least, switched from standby to active mode when the ward fell, or set off straight away, targeted at the person who forced the wards to drop. Only a fool or someone who had no idea what they were doing would do something so stupid.”

“I’m guessing you’ve got a better way,” Moody asked shrewdly.

“Yeah, I do,” Bill grinned at him. “We tunnel in. It’s a method the goblins like to use, sneaky bastards that they are. Not many think to guard that way and wards can only go down so far.”

“You know the spells?” Moody asked.

“Yep,” Bill replied. “At the rate of magic decay as it goes into the ground, I’d say that we’d need to go down at least ten metres; fifteen to be on the safe side. But that’s not the problem.”

“What is?” Moody’s electric blue magic eye focussing on the curse breaker for a moment before beginning its security sweep again.

“The thing with those wards is, they’ve been created using a language that I don’t know,” Bill admitted. “They’re not Celtic or Norse, Greek or Egyptian or either of the Futhark derivatives. Nothing I’ve seen before. And you can bet your last knut that whatever traps there are inside have also been created using the same language. Without knowing what it is, it’s going to be a nightmare to get past them all without tripping something.”

“Could you do it anyway?” Moody asked, his mind whirling, trying to find alternatives.

“Possibly,” Bill finally allowed. “This type of job needs a full team of Breakers – anything from three to five to watch each other’s back and to be sure that we’d be able get out alive again with the treasure.”

“What if you had someone who knew the language?” Moody asked.

“If they were a curse breaker, then no problem,” Bill shrugged. “If it was just me doing the Breaking, they’d need to be up with their runes, knowing arithmancy would be an asset as well.”

“I might know just the person,” Moody allowed.

“Who?” Bill asked.

“Potter,” Moody replied.

“Potter? Harry?” a startled Bill echoed.

“Yeah, Potter.” Moody confirmed. “Unless I miss my guess, the language that you’re looking for is parseltongue.”

“Parseltongue? I’ve only ever heard rumours of rune set created using parseltongue,” Bill mused. “He’s only a kid but if he’s our only option, then let’s bring him in.”

-oOoOo-

They found Potter in one of the larger classrooms back at Diricawl.

It seemed that he, Granger, Longbottom, Lovegood and Greengrass were working with a bunch of other kids, helping them to become animagi. Moody couldn’t be more pleased; he’d seen – or at least, _heard_ – what six animagi could do and that there were a lot more than that currently under instruction warmed his old, gnarled heart.

“Potter!” he called getting the boy’s attention.

Potter turned, surprised.

“Mad-eye? I thought you were off the island today,” he said.

“I was; seems we need someone with a specific skillset,” Moody replied. “You up for a little excursion?”

Before the boy could reply, a tabby cat leapt forward, turning into McGonagall striding towards them.

“An excursion where?” Minerva asked suspiciously.

Moody shrugged nonchalantly, an appearance that was belied by his next words.

“We just need a little hand with translation in order to break some runes,” he said.

“You want to take Harry _curse breaking_?” Minerva asked with narrowed eyes.

“It’s just translating; he’ll be perfectly fine. Won’t get a scratch on him,” Moody promised.

Seeing her reluctance, Moody pressed home hard.

“I seem to recall that it wasn’t that many days ago that Potter snuck into a Hogwarts occupied by Death Eaters, helped rescue hundreds of kids, battled some Death Eaters, encountered and _mocked Riddle himself_ and escaped with barely a scratch,” he stated.

Bill’s eyes switched from widening at Moody as he named each added adventure to goggling Harry.

“I’ve got to hear that story,” he murmured.

“Later,” Moody growled. “Well, Minerva?”

“I’m an adult, remember?” Harry piped up. “If I’m not safe with Moody and Bill, I’m not going to be safe with anyone. I’m guessing it’s important?”

“More important than you know,” Moody replied, trying to relate the exact nature of the mission to Potter simply with a look without giving classified information away to a bunch of kids at the same time.

“Are you sure about this, Harry?” Granger asked, her hand resting on his shoulder.

“You heard Mad-eye; I’m just there to translate, they’ll be doing all the dangerous stuff,” Harry replied.

Moody chose to hold his tongue on that.

“Very well, Harry, but be sure to remain safe,” Minerva stated.

“When do we go?” Harry asked, standing tall.

“Now,” Moody growled.

-oOoOo-

“You can apparate?” Moody asked when the three were assembled and ready to leave the island.

“Yep. Got my licence and everything, including for side-along,” Potter replied proudly.

“Good. Could come in useful. For now, I’ll side-along you since you don’t know where we’re going,” Moody stated. “Grab hold and don’t fight it.”

As soon as Potter took his arm, Moody nodded to Bill and the three vanished from the island.

Once they’d landed, Harry took a look around, trying to work out where they were. A large elm was at their back with nothing but sparsely populated trees before him, fields beyond that. From the other side of the elm, a noise, one that he hadn’t heard in some time, roared past.

Harry stepped out, his eyebrows raised at the sight of the road. And then he noticed the sign.

“Little Hangleton?” he commented. “Riddle’s parents lived there.” And then he spun to stare at the other two. “We’re going after the last horcrux?”

“We are,” Moody replied, sounding quite pleased with Harry’s deductive reasoning.

“Come on, we’ve got a couple mile hike before we get there,” Bill commented.

“Hike?” Harry echoed.

“Don’t want to announce our presence unless we have to,” Moody stated. “If there’s wards up to detect active magic, best to avoid them as long as possible.”

Harry nodded. “Makes sense.”

The walk to Little Hagleton was, for the most part, made with Moody leading the way and Bill and Harry walking side by side behind.

Of course, the first thing that Bill wanted to know about was Harry’s infiltration of Hogwarts, a story that Harry was more than happy to tell. There were a few places that he tried to gloss over the tale but Moody, hearing that, made him tell it properly. Bill roared with laughter at Harry’s method of escaping, especially the phrase that he used to activate the animals running at the door to escape. He was also suitably impressed by his brothers’ ingenuity in inventing such a useful spell and made Harry promise to teach it to him later.

“That is one impressive hole,” Harry stated, staring at the perfectly circular hole cut straight through the hedge when they finally reached their destination.

“ _Contorquet gladii!_ ” Moody told him. “Useful spell, especially in battle. Creates a pair of spinning swords that cut through anything.”

“Could you teach me?” Harry asked eagerly.

Moody nodded and then, having checked the surrounding area to ensure that they were alone, did so.

“Incantation you’ve heard. Wand movement’s fairly simple as well. Start with a full circle, the size of it indicates the extent the swords will extend, followed by slashing your wand in an ‘x’ inside that circle – top left to bottom right, then top right to bottom left.”

Harry gave it a couple of practices without pushing any magic. Of course, utilizing his staff like this meant that he had to adjust for its size. Spinning it about his hand to create a circle directly in front of him produced a massive circle almost the size of his entire body. After only a moment, and only a single minor tweak by Moody, he was declared proficient enough.

“Practice it more later but for Merlin’s sake, make sure that there’s no one in your line of sight, you don’t want to go cutting your friends into little pieces,” Moody cautioned. “Now, let’s go.”

After ten minutes of walking through the thick, tangled wood, the three came to a halt in front of a ditch dug in the ground.

“We’re tunnelling in, goblin style,” Bill explained.

Harry and Moody watched as Bill jumped down into the hole and then began weaving his wand, excavating the dirt and vanishing it and the rocks and roots that he encountered. Step by step, Bill disappeared into the earth.

It was quite sometime later that a mud-coated Bill re-emerged, his sweat combined with the dirt working together to make him absolutely filthy.

“We’re through,” he announced. “Come on.”

Jumping down into the hole, the light immediately dimmed. Walking into the tunnel behind Bill and Moody, Harry was plunged into darkness. A soft red light began to glow around them, created by the ruby at the end of Harry’s staff. The tunnel angled sharply downwards until, at the very bottom, it turned ninety degrees, going under where the wall of magic was. A dozen or so paces later, the tunnel turned again before angling steeply upwards.

The three clamoured out only to see that they were only a couple of metres from where they’d gone into the ground, albeit on the opposite side, the inside, of the wall of magic.

Bill cautiously moved away from them, his wand weaving about, before kneeling down and carefully moving some dirt aside.

“Harry, can you come over here? Make sure you stay directly behind me, you don’t want to accidently touch the ward barrier,” Bill said.

Harry moved into position so that he could look over Bill’s shoulder. What he saw was a large stone that Bill had obviously uncovered with what looked like runes etched all over it.

“Can you read any of this?” Bill asked.

Harry took a closer look and frowned. These runes weren’t like anything that he’d ever seen or studied before. They almost seemed to be _alive_ , appearing to move slightly as he stared at them. Slowly, though, by focussing carefully on each one, he began to make them out.

“This one’s ‘barrier’ and that’s ‘draw’ or maybe ‘pull’,” he began, pointing them out as he went. “‘Creature’, I think? That’s definitely ‘person’ and these three combined seem to say ‘absence of magic’.”

“Right, that’s enough, Harry, thanks,” Bill said.

“What is it? You recognise it?” Moody asked.

Bill nodded. “It’s a ward scheme in the necromancy family and explains where the wards are getting the power they need to be so strong without a ley line. I’ve seen something like it in South America. Basically, the runes are drawing power from the latent magic and life force from any living thing – person, animal or plant – within the radius of its pull and channelling that energy straight into the wards.”

“Not something we want to leave up,” Moody stated.

“Definitely not. I’ll disable them on our way back out,” Bill agreed.

“So where will the horcrux be?” Harry asked.

“Could be anywhere but most likely in the centre of the wards,” Bill replied and started to grin. “And you can bet that there are going to be a heap of traps between here and there.”

“Slow and steady, lad, we’ve got the time, so let’s make sure we do this right,” Moody cautioned.

Bill nodded, took a look up at the sun, nodded and began waving his wand in a continuous series of detection charms.

“This way,” he stated. “Walk only where I walk.”

Ever so slowly, each person directly behind the others, the three began their arduous trek into the heart of what was once Gaunt ancestral land.

-oOoOo-

It’d taken hours to get to where they currently were, with their goal finally in sight. They hoped.

Currently, they were sitting in a fairly tight circle, resting and recuperating. Moody had handed out some ration bars to each and had poured each of them a cupful from his flask. It was obvious by the amount that Moody had poured out that the flask was charmed to hold more than it looked able to. What was most surprising, though, was that it simply held prune juice.

“Good for the digestion,” Moody grunted at the surprised looks he was given. “Alcohol impairs the reactions and judgement; never good when you’re on the job. Mind you, if you tell anyone …”

The threat was left hanging but it was enough for both Bill and Harry to quickly agree to keep the retired Master Auror’s secret.

All three were currently banged up with cuts and bruises liberally placed on a variety of places on their bodies.

Harry had marvelled at watching Bill detect, analyse and dismantle trap after trap. Harry’s assistance at translating had of course been needed, but often he’d only needed to translate a handful of runes before Bill knew exactly what he was dealing with and acted against it.

Only twice had Bill missed a trap.

The first was a patch of clear ground, which Bill berated himself something shocking for afterwards as being a dead giveaway. The clearing wasn’t large but the instant that all three were in the middle of it, the ground under their feet altered to quicksand and they began sinking. The more they struggled, the deeper and the faster they were pulled. And if that wasn’t enough, dozens and dozens of snakes had appeared out of nowhere, slithering and hissing at them.

In a panic, Harry’d yelled at the snakes, causing them all to instantly stop at his use of parseltongue. And when he’d ordered them to leave, not only had they done so, but the ground had returned to normal. Digging themselves out of the now hardened earth hadn’t been fun or easy, but it was better than the alternative.

The other trap that had been sprung on them was a series of five trees animating, just like the whomping willow at Hogwarts and battering them mercilessly. Even diving to the ground to escape hadn’t helped as the flailing limbs simply smashed the ground after them.

It’d taken each of them quite a number of hits and being flung about before they were finally able to begin attacking back. Cutting curses were the main order of the day, severing limbs as quickly as possible. Harry even managed to get in some practice with Moody’s whirling swords curse, severing several limbs at once.

By the time they’d been able to limp and stumble their way out of the trap, all were breathing heavily, bleeding and carefully holding parts of their body that had been whomped by the trees.

“It’ll be in there,” Moody stated, indicating the old, dilapidated hut across the clearing from where they were resting.

“No doubt,” Bill agreed. “There’s bound to be more traps inside.”

Harry merely took another swig of his prune juice before pocketing the cup and joining the other two in testing the area between where they were and the hut for traps. Harry’s repertoire of spells to do so was incredibly limited and all but consisted of what Bill and Mad-eye had taught him during their trek through the Gaunt lands.

He definitely found it interesting and soaked it up. He could see that being a curse breaker could be something that he’d consider learning more about. But that was a decision for another day.

“Looks clear,” Moody stated.

“Maybe,” Bill agreed cautiously. “Harry?”

Harry knew exactly what he was asking.

_“_ _§Reveal yourself§”_ he hissed.

Unlike at other times, there was no sickly green glow indicating parsel magic nearby.

“Right, let’s cross. One at a time. Stick to my footsteps. Don’t touch or open the door when we get there,” Bill stated firmly.

One by one, the three crossed the open area. Despite their fears that they’d missed something, nothing happened.

“Trying to lull us into a false sense of security,” Moody commented.

“And failing,” Bill added, having cast not only at the door but also at the area surrounding it. “Harry, I think that this might be yours.”

_“_ _§Open§”_ he hissed.

The sound of a lock clicking preceded the door swinging slightly ajar.

Conjuring a stick, Moody pushed the door wide enough for them to be able to walk in, not that any of them did. Instead, the three began casting through the door at everything they could see – walls, floor, ceiling, the crooked table, upturned chair and even the cracked black pot lying on its side on the floor.

“I’ve got three,” Bill stated. “Pressure plate of some kind just inside the door; one that looks as though it disperses some kind of gas from the pot and something necromancy-like tied to the left wall.”

“There’s also something hidden in the back wall, half a foot off the ground, two feet in from the right wall,” Moody stated.

Bill directed his spells to the spot that Moody had indicated before nodding.

“I’m guessing that’s our goal,” he declared. “It’s definitely a heavily warded, hidden compartment. But we need to dismantle all of the other traps before we even think about going for it.

Bill’s wand drew a bright red line around an area just inside the door.

“This one looks simple enough to avoid,” he commented. “It’s pressure sensitive, as long as we don’t step on it or touch it in any way, we’re good.”

Moody’s wand swished and flicked and Bill lifted into the air, hovering half a foot above the floor before being floated inside the old shack. He softly landed on the floor and grinned back with a nod. It was then Harry’s turn to be levitated in.

While Bill was manoeuvring Moody over the pressure-sensitive trap, Harry took the chance to look around.

The shack was incredibly old and showing every one of its vast years. The ceiling of one side was slumped; dust covered everything; bits of plant life had managed to force their way in through the cracks on the far side of the door and were struggling towards the roof, seeking sunlight. What little furniture there was looked as though the first stiff breeze would have it falling apart.

Really, Harry thought that the only thing holding the shack together was its own stubbornness to stay upright. That and probably magic, not to mention the lengths of silver baling wire that seemed to be weaved throughout the walls and ceiling. Harry cocked his head at that last. Considering the evidence through lack of footprints in the dust that no one had been in the shack in years if not decades, he would have expected the old wire to have rusted red. Instead, it was still a bright, shiny silver.

“You break ’em, I’ll check for others,” Moody ordered.

With a nod, Bill gestured Harry over to him.

“We’ll start with the one in the left wall,” he said.

Together, the two worked their way through the trap, which, from the runes that Harry could deduce, seemed to indicate that if anyone got within three feet of the hidden compartment in the back wall, then every dead thing within a quarter of a mile would instantly be drawn to the shack at an alarming speed before tearing anything inside that was alive limb from limb.

Sweat was pouring form Bill’s brow and the back of his shirt was likewise saturated by the time that he sat back on his haunches and breathed a satisfied sigh.

“That’s that one done,” he declared. “Just the other one to go unless you’ve found something Mad-eye?

“Nope, that’s all of them,” Moody stated.

The pot was incredibly easy to deal with. Bill simply set up a bubble of magic around the pot and set the trap off. With the gas contained, it was a simply a matter of vanishing it. Once done, no more trap.

“Now the big one,” Bill grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Harry watched as Bill’s wand danced over the hidden area in small, delicate movements. There was frowning and a great deal of mumbling before Bill finally sat back and rubbed his chin.

“What is it, lad?” Moody asked.

“There are runes for something here but they’re definitely on the inside of the hidden door. I can’t dispel the effect without removing the door but doing so would set off the trap,” Bill explained.

Standing, Bill slashed at the wood two foot above the hidden compartment, two vertical, two horizontal, catching the piece of wall that fell out. Bill stuck his head in the hole that he’d just made for a moment before pulling it back out.

“The area’s boxed in,” he said. “I’m going to have to cut into it from the top down. Moody, I’m going to need you to poke your wand in there and shine some light for me to see.”

“You got it, lad,” Mad-eye said, shuffling to the side and twisting his hand so that just his wand was inside the hole, giving Bill as much space as possible to be able to see and work.

A few tense minutes later, Bill levitated a piece of hard black wood out of the hole.

“That should do it,” Bill muttered.

As soon as the wood was on the floor, Bill stuck his head back in.

“Yep, I can see it! It’s some gaudy ring; doubt the goblins would pay much for it, which is neither here nor there considering we’re just going to destroy it.”

Pulling out once more, Bill slipped on a dragon-hide glove before plunging his arm into the hole.

“Got it!” he exclaimed.

The three had barely enough time to look at the ring on the palm of Bill’s still gloved hand when movement out of the corner of Harry’s eye whipped his head around.

“Look out!” he screamed, shoving hard at the other two men.

While he’d been fast enough to knock Moody out of the way, Bill stood no chance. A silver piece of wire about four foot long shot straight at him, striking him in the chest and plunging straight into his heart.

The surprised expression was still etched on Bill’s face when he toppled to the ground, the _clink_ of the ring falling from his lifeless fingers as it bounced away to hit the pot.

But Harry and Moody didn’t have time to mourn Bill right then.

Now that they looked, they could see that every piece of silver wire that had been in the old shack’s walls and ceilings had unravelled and was now flying around the room. Every one was a different length, flying a different direction, some even spinning about as they flew through the air.

Harry flung himself to the floor as one whipped past his head. He rolled as a second stabbed into the ground, right where his left thigh was a second ago. Jumping to his feet in a crouch, Harry eyed the danger. It was impossible to predict exactly where each one was going to go. He ducked and weaved, dodging the wires as best he could, often by bare millimetres.

And then they began glowing red. As he avoided the next one, he felt the heat from it burning his arm. Even blinking now didn’t banish the danger as lines of brilliant red became etched behind his eyelids.

A heavy _thump_ across the room spun him about. Mad-eye was on the ground, rolling to avoid the next danger, half of his wooden leg left behind, cut straight off by the red-hot wires.

The tell-tale red of one getting too close brought Harry’s attention back to his own danger and his eyes widened at how close one was as it bore down on him, its aim right between his eyes. He was only marginally successful in getting out of its way by flinging himself backwards.

A piercing scream was ripped from him as the leading edge of the wire caught him mid-forehead before being dragged diagonally down between his eyebrows, across his nose, his cheek, slicing the corner of his mouth before scraping off of his face.

His hands instantly clasped his face, red, sticky blood spurting from between his fingers and blinding him. In his pain, he rolled about the floor, trying to escape.

A second scream was torn from him as he felt a wire pierce his left thigh before it hit the floor and reversed, tearing itself free. Automatically, his left hand left his face in order to clasp his wounded thigh. It never made it. A sidewards travelling wire passed at the exact wrong moment, slicing through his arm just below his elbow.

Harry shrieked louder and longer than ever before at the searing, burning pain.

The meaty _thunk_ of what was once his forearm sounded as it hit the floor and his eyes opened. Peering through his blood-soaked eyes, Harry saw copious amount of blood spurting from the stump of his arm. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted.

Moody, meanwhile, was having just as tough a time.

Having lost most of his wooden leg in one of the earliest passes of the deadly wires, he was forced to simply crawl and roll as best as he could.

Potter’s screams distracted him enough for one of the wires to pierce the side of his neck.

Moody clamped one hand over it, but he knew that he was dead already, his body just hadn’t figured it out yet. The amount of blood pouring from between his fingers told him that he didn’t have long to live, regardless of whether another wire got him or not.

Moody knew what he had to do: finish the mission and get Potter to help, and pray that the boy could be saved. Weasley, he knew, was a lost cause.

Spotting Harry’s staff lying nearby, Moody crawled to it, grabbed it and tossed it onto Potter’s barely moving chest.

It was enough, though for the boy’s eyes to flutter open.

“Moo…dy,” Potter managed.

“Don’t worry, kid, I’m getting you out of here,” Moody stated, directing his wand to make a tourniquet around Potter’s upper arm.

When the loss of blood slowed to a bare drip, Moody nodded and ducked an incoming wire.

“R…ring,” Potter croaked.

“On it,” Moody grunted.

He could feel his strength waning and he knew he only had moments left to live. The instant that he dropped a pre-prepared portkey on the boy, Moody let loose with his last curse.

“ _Fiendfyre!”_ he yelled.

A jet of white hot fire erupted from his wand, engulfing the ring, disintegrating it instantly.

Harry’s last sight before the swirl of multicolour magic whisked him away, was Moody slumping over just as a red-hot piece of wire erupted through his good eye from the back of his head, flames of animals dancing around the old auror’s body.


	15. Chapter 15

The sound of the alert charm indicating that someone had arrived in the Reception Room had Chert hustling over to look through the security portal. One look at the grizzly sight and his palm slammed onto the alert stone connected to both Diricawl’s Administration and Hospital Wing.

Chert than wrenched open the door and raced inside, skidding to his knees to land beside the prone, bleeding form on the floor. As quickly as he could, he scooped the boy up in his powerful arms and raced from the room to where he could perform magic and hopefully keep the boy in the land of the living.

Harry’s staff was tossed to the side and Chert’s hands came up, a chant on his lips as his magic washed over the boy, assessing the damage.

The biggest, most obvious and most life-threatening wound was the loss of the boy’s left forearm. Foreign magic pinged against Chert’s own and he recognised a tourniquet spell on Harry’s upper arm, cutting off the blood supply and saving his life. While some blood was still oozing from the wound, dripping off the end of the bone sticking out of the open end of the arm, it wasn’t a dangerous amount.

No, the real danger was coming from Harry’s left thigh where a pool of blood was spreading out from under his leg. Chert could see that there was a hole that pierced all the way through the thigh, cause unknown. If the wound was left open, left untreated for much longer, the boy was in danger of bleeding out.

Chert’s knife was instantly in his hand and he worked fast to cut into Harry’s pant leg, tearing a hole at the top. Rolling Harry onto his uninjured right side, Chert repeated the process, making sure that he had access to the other end of the hole as well. A guttural chant accompanied Chert waving his hand over the blade of his knife, causing it to rapidly heat and for it to begin glowing from a dull red to a brilliant red, nearly white, in moments.

Then, without pausing, Chert closed the wounds the goblin way, by searing the very flesh closed.

The mangled cry that Harry managed as the second, the one on top of his thigh, was closed told Chert that the pain had been enough to wake the boy.

After rolling the boy back onto his back, Chert checked his face, the last of the big wounds. A wicked cut bisected his face, from right forehead, between his eyes and onto his cheek, just slicing the left edge of his mouth. It would be a scar worthy of any warrior. And, though there was much blood, it was not life-threatening.

“Where?” Harry croaked.

“Diricawl,” Chert replied. “The others?”

“Dead,” Harry managed. “Tell … Si… Sirius … ring … des … troyed.”

Chert nodded before the boy passed out once more.

He was just contemplating placing the boy into stasis until help arrived when a pair of female Healers rushed into the room.

“Merlin! What happened?” the older of the two exclaimed, pausing only slightly at the sight of the blood covered, injured boy.

“Irrelevant,” Healer Jeffries snapped. “Right now, our priority is to make sure he stays alive.”

“His arm!” the older Healer exclaimed. “That’s the most urgent. I’ll work on it, you find out where all that blood’s coming from.”

The boy’s pant leg was vanished and Healer Jeffries paused, staring before her head shot up, pinning Chert with her gaze.

“You did this?” she demanded.

“He was losing too much blood. Fastest way to stop it,” Chert replied.

Healer Jeffries gave a sharp nod, her lips pursed before ignoring him and joining her fellow Healer in working on the stump of the boy’s left arm.

A dozen minutes later, Healer Jeffries sat back, wiping her brow with the bloodied back of her arm.

“I thought that Harry went with two others – Moody and the eldest Weasley boy. Any sign of them?” she asked.

Chert shook his head.

“Harry woke up briefly. He said both were dead,” he informed them.

Gasps accompanied his statement.

“We’ve patched him up enough to get him to the Hospital Wing,” Healer Jeffries stated. “I need you to lock this place down and clear a path for us, we can’t be stopped getting him to the hospital, he needs immediate and prolonged surgery.”

Chert nodded as the two Healers began levitating the boy between them. The instant that he was on his feet, Chert pulsed his magic into the appropriate crystals sealing the Receiving Room, grabbed his axe and led the way.

What few students were on the ground and saw the procession took one look at Chert’s scowl and stayed well back.

It wasn’t until they were crossing the main Entrance Hall of the school that they encountered their first potential hinderance.

“Harry?” Petunia Dursley exclaimed before rushing around from her counter at Reception to get to her nephew.

“Out of the way,” Chert growled.

“He needs immediate surgery,” Healer Jeffries added.

Petunia stepped back against the wall, wringing her hands, her head swivelling as her gaze never left the face of the boy as they passed, only to then hurry after them.

At the doors to the Hospital Wing, Chert stopped, turned and gripped his axe with both hands, ready to repel all. Petunia took one step as though to follow Harry disappearing through the doors with the Healer before stopping at Chert’s warning shake of his head.

“What happened?” she near cried at Chert.

“Don’t know,” Chert grunted.

“Will he live?” she asked, tears beginning to fall.

“Don’t know,” Chert answered again, this time much more gently. “We let the Healers work without interruption and he stands a better chance.

That was enough for Petunia as, surprisingly, she turned and took up guard right alongside the goblin.

-oOoOo-

Despite neither Chert nor Petunia, leaving their post outside of the Hospital Wing doors, nor communicating with anyone, word of Harry being there quickly spread.

Sirius was the first to arrive at a near dead run. His feet pounded down the corridor and it looked by his serious, grim face that he had no intention of being anywhere but by his godson’s side. Chert’s presence may not have stopped him, but his axe surely did.

“Let me pass, Chert, my godson’s in there!” Sirius ordered.

“No. Healers have ordered that no one enters, their work is too important and delicate to be interrupted,” Chert stated.

“I just need to see him, make sure he’s alive. I’ll come straight back out afterwards,” Sirius argued.

“No,” Chert countered, raising his axe slightly.

“I know how you feel, Sirius; Harry is my nephew, remember?” Petunia stated. “Believe me, I want to be in there, too. But I’m not allowing you in there if there’s even the slightest chance that you could distract the doctors and inadvertently cause him to die.”

Sirius glowered at her before turning around, flicking out his wand and conjuring a chair.

“Fine. Don’t expect me to move from this spot for anything, though,” he said, sitting, crossing his arms and staring at the door.

He’d barely sat, though, when he was jumping up to catch Hermione, running flat out at the door, disregarding Chert’s warning axe lift.

Sirius’ arm caught her around her middle and held her tight.

“Let me go!” she screamed. “I need to see Harry!”

“Hermione! Hermione!” Sirius practically had to yell to get her to hear him.

She turned then and Sirius wasn’t sure that she could even see him with the streams of tears running from her eyes.

“I need to get in there!” she pled. “They said … they said that he was covered in blood and … and missing … missing an arm!”

The last came out as a wail, attracting the attention of the group rushing down the corridor.

“What?” a shocked Minerva asked. “Did you say ‘missing an arm’?”

Hermione nodded, her sobs coming louder and her whole body heaving.

“Luna saw him on the stretcher being brought here,” she managed to choke out.

“But Harry, he can’t be …” Dudley said sounding bewildered.

Petunia stepped forward, grabbed her son and pulled the bigger boy into a hug.

“The doctors are working on him now,” she said. “We won’t know more until they come out.”

In the brief space of time that they’d been talking, the corridor had filled up with a combination of both adults and students, all looking wide-eyed and disbelieving at what they were hearing.

“Let me through, please,” Amelia practically ordered and the crowd did their best to create a path for her to reach the Hospital Wing doors.

“What happened?” Amelia demanded. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know, Am,” Sirius replied, shaking his head.

“I know that Harry went off with Alastor and Bill Weasley,” Minerva stated, looking around for the missing men.

“Then where are they?” Amelia asked.

Chert took half a step away from the doors that he was guarding to draw their attention.

“Harry was the only one to return,” he stated.

“What?” Amelia asked. “We need to find Croaker; he’ll know where they went so that we can go after them in case they’re in trouble.”

The grumble of a goblin clearing his throat drew everyone’s attention. Chert gestured to Sirius, Amelia and Minerva to come closer before throwing up a goblin privacy ward, a charm that Amelia enhanced with wizard magic.

“What do you know?” Sirius demanded.

“Harry was briefly awake when he returned,” Chert reported. “He said to tell you that Moody and Weasley were dead and that the ring had been destroyed.”

Minerva’s hand shot to her heart and she stumbled backwards a bit.

“Did he say anything else?” Amelia asked.

“No,” Chert replied.

“Damn,” Sirius stated, shaking his head.

“I think I’d better go have a quiet word with Arthur and Molly,” Amelia stated. “Let me know as soon as there’s any news on Harry.”

“Will do,” Sirius replied before moving back to his chair to take up vigil over the doors.

-oOoOo-

Amelia paused just outside the door of the room that Arthur and Molly were staying in. She briefly closed her eyes and bowed her head, taking a steadying breath before knocking on the door.

“Oh, hello, Amelia,” Arthur greeted her, opening the door.

“Hello, Arthur. Is Molly here?” Amelia replied.

Arthur reflexively looked behind him further into the room.

“Yes, she is. Did you wish to speak with her?” Arthur asked.

“To the both of you, actually,” Amelia replied. “May I come in?”

“Of course, of course,” Arthur smiled, opening the door wider and gesturing her in.

Amelia entered the small sitting room to find Molly sitting, listening to the wizarding wireless as she knitted what looked to be a jumper.

“Amelia’s here, love,” Arthur announced, “she’d like to talk to us.”

Molly looked up with a smile and reached out to turn off the wireless.

“Come in, please, have a seat,” Molly said.

“Thank you. Before I begin,” Amelia said, “are any of your children here?”

Arthur frowned. “No, not at the moment. Did you want to talk to one of them?”

“It’s not the twins is it?” Molly asked before rushing on. “Those two are always getting into things they shouldn’t and causing such mayhem.”

Amelia held up a hand to stop the other woman.

“No, it’s not about Fred or George. Actually, it’s about Bill,” Amelia stated.

“Bill?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yes,” Amelia swallowed. This was one part of her job that she absolutely loathed. Regardless, she pressed on.

“As you may be aware, we asked specifically for Bill to be brought back here so that he could help Alastor with a curse breaking job,” she began.

Molly’s hand jumped to her chest and she stared at Amelia, almost as if she expected what was to come.

“Today, Bill and Alastor, along with Harry Potter, went on their mission,” she said. “I must stress that this was a vital task, that without it being completed, we’d have no chance of defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Go on,” Arthur said heavily when Amelia had obviously paused too long.

“A short time ago, Harry portkeyed back to the island, grievously injured, in fact, he’s currently in surgery in an attempt to save his life. Harry was the only one to come back,” she said.

“Where’s Bill? Where’s my boy?” Molly demanded. “He’s obviously in trouble. Who’s going to bring my Bill home?”

Amelia sadly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Molly, Arthur. Harry was briefly conscious when he portkeyed in. He said that both Bill and Alastor had died.”

Molly’s wail was ear-piercing and Arthur rushed across to her, dropping to his knees to wrap her in his arms.

“If Harry was only conscious for a moment, then surely there’s still hope,” Arthur said, tears flowing down his cheeks. “He might have been delirious or … or wrong.”

“It’s possible,” Amelia allowed. “We won’t know for certain until he’s out of surgery and wakes up.”

“When?” Arthur asked loudly over Molly’s sobs, patting his wife’s back.

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t know. I promise to come tell you as soon as I know anything more.”

Arthur simply nodded before turning back, his own shoulders heaving as he sobbed along with his wife.

Quietly, Amelia rose and let herself out, closing the door with barely a _snick_.

-oOoOo-

Croaker stepped out of the shadows as Amelia drew near, letting his hood fall back so that she could see his face. Her steps faltered for a fraction of second before she resumed her pace towards him.

“Algeron,” she greeted him.

“Amelia,” he returned.

With a flick of her head, she indicated the nearby doorway and he fell into step beside her down the corridor. After entering the room, the Unspeakable ensured that the room was secure and that anything that they said would be kept private.

“There are some … disturbing rumours floating around, Amelia,” he stated.

“I’m in no mood for these games, Algeron,” she retorted. “In answer to the questions that you haven’t asked: Moody, Bill Weasley and Harry Potter went out to search for the last horcrux this morning. Only Potter returned, gravely injured. From what little I know, he was covered in blood and missing an arm and is currently in surgery. All he said in the brief time that he was awake after returning was that Moody and Bill were dead and that the ring had been destroyed.”

Algeron dropped his head for a moment.

“They were good men; Alastor especially will be greatly missed,” he said.

“They both will be,” Amelia countered.

“However, if the ring – and I’m assuming that it’s the Peverell House ring – truly is destroyed, then Riddle is mortal,” he stated. “He can be _killed_!”

Amelia stared at him, the implications having not yet permeated into her brain.

“He can, can’t he? That was the last horcrux,” she said before shaking her head. “A victory, but at a terrible cost and not something that I can think about right now. We’ll talk about it some more later, once Harry’s out of surgery and awake and can tell us more about what happened.”

Algeron nodded. “Very well. But this needs to be discussed soon, including our next move. With Riddle vulnerable, the war could finally be nearly over.”

Amelia simply nodded before patting him on the shoulder and leaving, resuming her walk towards the Hospital Wing.

-oOoOo-

The vigil outside the Hospital Wing was long and tense. The corridor remained packed, despite the fact that the dinner hour had come and gone. Barely anyone had left and those few who did returned quickly, often after eating only one or two bites and pushing around the rest of their meal with their fork.

Dan and Emma had appeared and had Hermione wrapped closely between them, all three with their heads together and tears running down their faces. Petunia and Dudley were likewise close, both remaining right beside the doors. The four Evans’ were also huddled together, keeping vigil right alongside the others.

Neville sat by himself, his back against the wall, his arms flopped over his knees pulled up to his chest and a blank expression on his face, clearly in shock.

Sirius and Remus paced backwards and forwards, in opposite directions in front of the doors, their heads more often than not focussed on the doors, their shoulders tense and their arms stiff. Minerva had half-heartedly tried to shoo the students away, but they could tell that her heart wasn’t in it and had remained, just as she was.

Even the elves seemed to be keeping a close watch, often popping in and out as their duties allowed. All except Dobby, that was. He had apparently popped straight into the Hospital on hearing that his beloved Master Harry Potter Sir had been injured before being roared at by the two Healers. Ever since then, he’d taken up his post beside Chert, ensuring that none could pass to disturb the Healers at work.

The unexpectedness of the door swinging open from the inside caught everyone off guard, but only for a moment. As soon as Healer Jeffries and Madam Pomfrey were seen, the anxious crowd surged to their feet and pressed forward.

Healer Jeffries took one look at the crowd and held up a hand.

“All I’ll say right now is that Harry’s alive,” she said, eliciting a great cheer, relieved laughs and a round of applause.

She held up her hands, a stern look on her face.

“There is an incredibly sick young man just beyond these doors, I’ll thank you to keep your noise down,” she admonished and instantly got the silence that she wanted.

After taking one long look at the crowd, Healer Jeffries held the door open behind her.

“If Harry’s family would like to come in, I can give you a full report of his injuries and his prognosis,” she said.

Instantly, Petunia and Dudley; Mike, Susan, Mark and Melody; Sirius, Remus and Minerva; as well as Hermione headed towards the door. Dobby simply vanished inside with a _snap_ of his fingers.

Healer Jeffries pursed her lips at the crowd but in the end allowed them all in, Hermione’s expression daring her to deny the teen’s admittance.

Once all had entered she gathered them around her, far away from the far bed that was currently obscured from view by screens.

“When Harry came in,” she began, “he had multiple injuries. We’ll start with the simplest and work our way up. The numerous scrapes, bruises and small cuts that littered his body and limbs have been healed. Harry sustained a puncture wound to his left thigh that went all the way through. It, too, has been healed but it is likely that he will have a slight limp for some time from the nerve damage that was done, not to mention the scar to go with it.

“The second most serious injury that Harry arrived with was a long cut on his face,” she used her finger to show exactly how it went from his forehead above his right eye, down between his eyes, over his nose, across his cheek and finished just after slicing the corner of the left edge of his mouth. “It was definitely made by something sharp, possibly a knife, and it was quite deep. We’ve applied essence of dittany to it but it is far too deep to heal completely. Currently, it is healing nicely, now appearing as though it was made a few days ago. I’m sorry to say, that he will carry that scar for the rest of his life.”

There were quite a number of sobs and eyes that closed in sorrow for the boy, but no one interrupted, all knowing that she was still to detail the most serious injury that Harry had obtained.

“As to Harry’s most serious injury,” Healer Jeffries continued, “somehow, Harry was missing the lower part of his left arm, from just below his elbow. The cut was clean and straight. He’d received some field dressing, a tourniquet charm, very soon after the accident happened which definitely saved his life. Madam Pomfrey and I did what we could and were able to save the rest of his arm, closing his arteries and blood vessels and grafting on some skin to close the wound.”

“His arm is gone?” a disbelieving Mark asked as Hermione all but collapsed to the floor, sobbing, only being held upright by Sirius and Minerva.

“His forearm, yes,” Healer Jeffries replied gently, indicating the place on her own arm where the cut had occurred.

“He’ll live?” Sirius half-asked, half stated.

“Yes,” she replied with a tired smile.

“I take it he’s still asleep?” Remus asked.

Healer Jeffries nodded. “We placed him into a magical coma to give him time to heal. We’ll bring him out of it tomorrow morning and then allow him to wake naturally. How long that will take is impossible to predict but we suspect that it’ll be a couple of days at minimum.”

“Can we see him?” Susan asked.

“You may,” Healer Jeffries replied while holding up a finger to ensure that they listened. “This will just be a short visit, a couple of minutes at most and no more than three at a time. Once you’ve all seen him, I expect you all to go get something to eat, sleep and to not come back until morning.”

By unspoken agreement, the first three to venture tentatively beyond the screens were Petunia, Dudley and Mike, Harry’s closest relatives.

There they found Dobby perched on the very end of Harry’s bed, his great, green tennis ball sized eyes staring at the prone figure on the bed. Currently, Harry was lying uncovered wearing a hospital gown that was short enough to show that his left thigh was heavily bandaged.

It was a debate as to where the eye was drawn when first looking at Harry – whether it be his face or his arm. Parts of his face – forehead, nose and cheek – were lightly covered by a long, light bandage. His left arm, though, or at least what was left of it was where the eyes of those who’d come to see him lingered the longest. A plethora of bandages were wrapped tightly around his stump before winding all the way up to his shoulder and back down again.

Petunia combed her fingers through Harry’s black hair as she cried silent tears. Dudley, for his part, simply stood at the foot of his cousin’s bed unable to believe that his was the same boy who had, seemingly a lifetime ago, been nothing more than his punching bag – how he greatly regretted those wasted years. As for Mike, he patted Harry’s lower right leg, as far from any injury as possible and wished his cousin a fast recovery.

Three by three, the others also took their turn, all assuring themselves that Harry was indeed still alive, while also seeing the extent of the injuries that the boy’d suffered. Hermione practically threw herself at Harry’s right side, grabbing his hand and winding her fingers between his while she sobbed over his chest. It took the combined effort of both Sirius and Minerva to pry her away and to escort her from the Hospital before gently giving her back into the care of her parents.

At the insistence of the two Healers, the rest of the group that had been allowed in also departed, most silently vowing to be back waiting at the door long before visiting hours began to demand entrance in order to sit by Harry’s bed and to be there when he finally awoke, whenever that happened to be.


	16. Chapter 16

Under the protective wards of Ynys Crochenydd, the population of the island were focussed inwards. Every person there, male or female, young or old, had only one thought on their minds: Harry Potter. More specifically, their hope and wish for him to get better.

As the days dragged on and the nights seemed longer than the deepest of winter, a vigil was kept. Some few were allowed in to sit at his bedside, rotating in shifts, ensuring that Harry was never alone. Many camped out in the corridor just outside the Hospital Wing doors to be sure that they were as close as possible when news came of their friend. Others tried to go about their usual routine, in however a subdued manner that they could manage.

Silence reigned on the island, as if all were afraid to disturb Harry’s rest, to interfere with his recovery. And as the days passed and still Harry did not wake, the silence turned from one of simple waiting, to an anxious, fretful feeling.

-oOoOo-

Elsewhere in the British Isles, events that the ‘rebels’ based at Diricawl had started, moved others to begin testing their friends out, seeking others who were like-minded. The questions were innocuous at first, a sort of putting a toe in the water in case of grindylows sort of feeling, where the wrong move, the wrong word, could have them pulled under and lost forever.

But as more and more of the ‘right’ responses were found, people began to grow in confidence and number. They began banding together, whispering in the darkness and finally, secretively, airing their feelings over what had been happening.

The pictures that had been seen up and down the country, all showing students from Hogwarts mixing with those from Diricawl, obviously taken so very recently, gave people pause. The question was asked, ‘is it real?’ And the more the Ministry denied it, the more that they punished those who _dared_ to question its veracity, the more that began to believe that it was, in fact, _real_.

And if it was real, that meant that the kids who’d been held hostage inside Hogwarts, those kids who hadn’t been allowed home, were now free. Out of the clutches of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters. And with the kids no longer being held as hostages, the wand that had been held to the heads of the adults disappeared, or, at least, moved a couple of inches away.

The whispers about what that meant grew slightly louder as more gathered together. Most of these people knew fear. They knew what it was like to be afraid for so very long – it didn’t seem so long ago that You-Know-Who was terrorising the country the last time. In the intervening years, they’d had a taste of freedom again, of being able to live as they wished, to walk the streets without fear, to buy what they wanted, even to hold whatever beliefs they wanted without fear of repercussions. No one wanted to go back to how it was before.

And with the children being freed, obviously by those holed up at Diricawl – Amelia Bones, the _real_ Head of the DMLE; Sirius Black, imprisoned for a dozen years before the truth was revealed that he wasn’t and never would be a Death Eater; and Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again – the ‘normal’ people grew in confidence. If those pillars, those heroes could fight back, why couldn’t they?

Whispers grew into ideas, ideas into suggestions, suggestions into plans. Plans were discussed and people grew courage from those around them. They wanted to do something and they knew just what to do. As soon as enough were gathered and ready, they’d move.

-oOoOo-

A slight twitch of a leg shifted the bed ever so slightly. Hermione, who’d had her head down on the mattress, both hands clutching Harry’s right, felt the bed move. At first, she thought that it was one of the others who’d bumped it and when it happened again, she looked up, wanting to admonish them. Then the bed moved for a third time and she saw what was causing it – Harry’s leg was moving.

“Harry?” she asked quietly, wonderingly.

This was the very first time that he’d moved in over three days. For the intervening time, he’d been as still as death.

As her eyes studied his face, she noticed him frown, his head, twitching slightly back and forth. His eyelids began moving as though his eyes underneath were rapidly moving about.

“Get Healer Jeffries,” Hermione ordered, “I think there’s something wrong.”

She heard movement, but whether it was Remus or her mother, she neither knew nor cared, as long as one of them was obeying her.

Harry’s shoulders shifted, as though he wanted to roll over and she gently reached out to hold him in place. Her touch seemed to comfort him, for he stilled. Next, his nostrils expanded, as though he was taking in a deep breath.

“What is it?” Healer Jeffries asked as she arrived, her wand already moving above Harry’s body.

Hermione stepped back, knowing that if she was too close, that her presence could interrupt the spell’s effectiveness.

A relieved sigh escaped the Healer as she finally lowered her wand and began checking him over the old-fashioned way – feeling his forehead with the back of her hand, checking his pulse in his neck and then looking over each of his bandages.

“I think that he’s finally coming out of it,” Healer Jeffries smiled.

“When will he be awake?” Hermione asked, staring into Harry’s face, incredibly relieved and grateful that he was finally looking and acting alive.

“I’d expect sometime in the next hour or two,” she replied.

“His injuries?” Emma asked.

“Healing nicely,” Healer Jeffries replied. “It will still be a very long recovery, especially for his arm, but I’m extremely confident that there will be no complications.”

“Thank you,” Remus said with a great deal of feeling.

“No need to thank me,” she replied. “I may not be as close to Harry as some of you, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care for him.”

Hermione retook her seat, once again intertwining her fingers with Harry’s. Her eyes danced over his face, taking every part of him in, from his hair, even messier now than ever, to his handsome face. She winced slightly at the sight of the nasty scar that now marred his face and she grieved for him. Harry so very much hated being stared at, at being seen as nothing more than a ‘famous scar’. Now, now it was going to quadrupled. _This_ scar couldn’t be hidden by a convenient lock of hair.

Hermine gave herself a shake, determinedly shoving those thoughts to the very back of her mind. When Harry finally woke up, she was determined that the only thing he would see would be how much she loved him and supported him and was there for him. She’d done her grieving for him, it was time to be the rock that she knew that he’d need her to be. It wasn’t going to be easy but together, with all of their friends and family to help, they’d get through this.

-oOoOo-

It was closer to the two hour mark than the one hour when the smallest of moans came from Harry. His head thrashed from side to side and Hermione hopped up onto the side of the bed, her hands shooting up to hold each side of his head, to force it so that the very first thing he saw when he opened his eyes would be her.

“Harry, Harry, you’re safe,” she told him. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Over and over she told him the same thing and slowly he began to calm down until his chest was no longer heaving and his breath was back to normal.

“Her … mio … ne,” he croaked.

“Yes, Harry,” she smiled. “I’m right here.”

His eyes cracked open slightly and tears that she couldn’t help fell at the sight of that vivid green staring back at her. She smiled brilliantly at him through her tears before lowering her face and kissing him, tenderly so as to not hurt his mouth where he’d been cut.

“Where?” he asked as she pulled back.

“You’re at Diricawl, Harry. In the Hospital Wing,” she replied.

She sensed her mother and Remus had come up to stand near the head of the bed so that they could see him better, but she held his focus, refusing to acknowledge them right now.

A frown crossed his face as though he was trying to remember something important.

“Hospital Wing?” he asked. “What …? Why …?”

“Let’s just worry about making sure that you’re okay before we talk about that, okay, Cub,” Remus said.

Harry’s eyes flicked across to him and he frowned some more.

“How long …?” he asked.

“How long have you been here?” Remus finished for him. “Coming up on four days.”

Healer Jeffries scurried up, then, shooing the three away from the bed so that she could perform some more tests and scans now that he was awake. None failed to notice that, while she had him moving his head and scrunching his face – an action that he grimaced with pain at – as well as checking his leg and its movement, she refrained from looking at the stump of his left arm for now.

“Okay, Harry, just lie still for a couple of minutes until Sirius and Minerva come and then we’ll have a talk, okay?” Healer Jeffries instructed.

Harry nodded slightly.

As soon as the Healer moved away, Hermione was back up, perched on the side of the bed and grabbing his hand once more.

She smiled down at him seeing the confused, concerned expression written there.

“You’re going to be fine, Harry,” she told him.

He nodded uncertainly and she saw him grimace.

“What’s wrong? Is something hurting?” she asked.

“My hand, it’s just tingling, that’s all,” he replied,

Hermione lifted his hand and gave it a rub.

“Was I holding too tight?” she asked,

“No. Not that one, the other one, my left,” he replied with a shake of his head.

Hermione opened her mouth to say what, she knew not. Thankfully, Healer Jeffries returned at that moment trailing Sirius and Minerva.

“Hey, kiddo, you’ve had us worried,” Sirius said almost jovially, moving in behind Hermione and patting him on his shoulder.

“Hi, Sirius,” Harry smiled. “Guess I slept in.”

“Harry,” Minerva smiled. “It’s so very good to see you awake and looking so well.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Not that I’m really feeling all that great.”

“What do you remember?” Sirius asked gently.

Harry scrunched up his face, wincing slightly as the skin around his new scar stretched and puckered.

“Mad-eye came to say that I was needed for something,” Harry began slowly. “With Bill Weasley. I was needed to translate runes. Parseltongue runes.”

“That’s right,” Minerva encouraged. “Do you remember anything of where you went or what you did?”

As Harry started to tell his story, his slowness, tentativeness morphed into faster and more excited speech as his memory returned.

“We went to … Little Hangleton. We arrived a fair distance out and had to walk in. We found a place and … and Bill dug us a tunnel to get us in under the wards. There were heaps and heaps of traps. We found most of them; only missed two but got past them without _too_ much trouble. Then we found the shack.”

Harry looked down at his blankets with a frown for a minute before looking back up.

“There were traps in that room, too,” he continued and as he did so, tears slowly began to fall. “We found them and Bill dismantled them. Then we found the place where the ring was hidden in the wall. Bill thought to go around the runes by cutting in through the top. Something must have gone wrong, though. We must have missed something. As soon as he had the ring out, all hell broke loose.

“Bill was killed before we even knew what was happening. I tried to save him, but I was just too slow. Saw it coming even, I just couldn’t push him out of the way fast enough.”

“What was it, Harry?” Sirius asked gently, a hand resting on his shoulder squeezing slightly.

“Wire,” Harry replied with a sob. “There were all these pieces of wire. They were in the walls and ceiling and everywhere and something activated them. Made them fly all over the room. It was impossible to predict where they’d go next. And then they heated up; so hot that they were glowing and you could feel the heat when they passed.

“We were dodging everything we could. Then one sliced straight through Moody’s fake leg and he fell. It distracted me and one … Merlin! It was coming straight for my face! I tried to dodge …!”

Harry’s hand flew to his face, covering his new scar, roughly pawing at it and he screamed.

Hermione sobbed and fell on his chest.

“It’s okay, Harry. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re fine. Nothing can hurt you now,” she said.

Finally, Harry managed to get a hold of himself and his breathing slowed.

“Can you continue, Harry?” Remus asked.

He nodded slightly and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I fell then and tried to dodge, but there was blood everywhere in my eyes and I couldn’t see properly,” he said. “Then one got me, stabbed me straight through my thigh. I moved to check it and …”

Harry’s left arm came up and he stared at the bandaged covered stump. The loudest, most horrified scream tore from his throat at the sight.

“My arm! Merlin! My arm! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!” he screamed through his sobs, his eyes wide, fixated on the missing lower limb.

Hermione squeezed tighter around his middle, trying to offer what comfort she could but she was being completely ignored.

“Harry! Harry! Calm down, Harry,” Sirius tried, near-shouting over his godson’s continuous screams.

“Move aside! I need to give him a calming draught,” Healer Jeffries ordered.

It took the combined efforts of Hermione, Sirius and Healer Jeffries to get through to Harry enough to get him to drink the potion. The effects, though, were near instantaneous. His screams stopped, becoming muffled sobs and his breathing, though still slightly ragged, mostly evened out.

“Okay, Harry, just one more, a dreamless sleep potion and you can rest,” she said.

She moved her hand, offering it to his obedient lips when Sirius gently pushed her hand aside.

“Just a minute or two more,” he said. “We need to hear the end of the story and he needs to tell it.”

“This is against my better judgement,” she eventually caved.

“What happened next, Harry?” Sirius asked. “How did you get back to the island?”

For a moment, it appeared that he hadn’t heard Sirius’ question and then, slowly, almost in a monotone, he began speaking.

“Moody. He was there. Dropped a portkey on me.”

“Mad-eye, what happened to him?” Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head.

“He was bleeding pretty badly from his neck,” Harry replied. “I’m guessing a piece of wire got him. He used fiendfyre on the ring. The last I saw was a piece of wire coming _out_ of his good eye and the flames turning on him.”

“Merlin!” Minerva gasped.

“Right, that’s enough,” Healer Jeffries stated, pushing Remus aside. “Here, Harry, drink this.”

Obediently, Harry opened his mouth and drained the potion. Less than a minute later, his eyes closed as sleep claimed him.

“To have seen that,” Minerva near-whispered.

“To have _experienced_ that,” Remus said, shaking his head.

“He’s going to need a lot of help, patience and care coming to terms with what happened,” Healer Jeffries stated.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hermione stated defiantly before reclaiming her chair, grasping his hand and resuming her vigil.

-oOoOo-

By ones and twos they gathered throughout the day. They trickled into businesses, often chatting to the storeowners or browsing the shops before, when no one was watching, disappearing into the backrooms or cellars below or flats above.

There was no one place where they met, but all knew the plan.

_Quality Quidditch Supplies_ was one of the largest meeting places, with nearly two dozen crammed into the cellar. _Obscurus Books_ was another, holding thirteen in the flat above the store. The apothecary hid a half dozen, as did a handful of others. Still more met for an early dinner at _The Leaky Cauldron_ and stayed talking, sharing round after round of drinks.

At the appointed time, when dusk had fallen and the Alley was all but deserted, the groups snuck forth.

“You there! Stay where you are!” a black robed Death Eater called, noticing the group stalking down the Alley, their wands in their hands.

When their order was ignored, the two Death Eaters shared a brief glance at each other before shrugging and cutting loose.

“ _Avada kedavra!”_

_“Crucio!”_

The crowd scattered and both spells missed, striking the cobblestones behind them with enough force to crack them.

And then the mob retaliated. Bonebreakers, cutting curses, explosion hexes, reductos, spells of all colours spitting at the two Death Eaters. By the time the last curse dissipated, the two men, or at least, what was left of them, were nothing more than broken bodies and pools of blood.

Similar scenes were occurring in three other locations up and down the Alley. Within a very small space of time, every Death Eater in the Alley was dead, as was two of the mob, having caught two of the killing curses.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as they linked up, wands waving high and bright sparks shooting out.

After the small celebration, they split apart, each to their assigned tasks. The Alley needed to be secured if they wanted to hold on to their newly won freedom.

The largest group raced straight to the entrance to Knockturn Alley. If there was one place where the dark of magical Britain met the everyday folk, this intersection was it. Prepared bricks, each engraved with strengthening and magic-resistance runes were brought from their hiding places throughout the many shops of the Alley and piled nearby. One by one, those bricks were brought together and built into a wall, three foot thick and eight foot high, completely blocking Knockturn Alley off from Diagon Alley.

Numerous smaller groups went from door to door, visiting every shop and home in the Alley, searching for enemies. People were pulled from their homes at wandpoint. Sleeves were torn and, if their skin was clear, sincere apologies and explanations were offered. However, whenever a Dark Mark was found, that person was bound and left in the middle of the Alley under guard.

A group, more of a mob really, made an owl-line straight for the offices of _The Daily Prophet._ The door was blasted off of its hinges and the mob stormed in. In the fierce but short battle that ensued between the mob and the late night staff of the paper, three people were killed and another five were injured. During the chaos, though, the job the mob wanted done was completed – every printing press was destroyed.

Another team went to each of the three apparition and portkey points and threw up anti-apparition and anti-portkey charms over them all, ensuring that none could enter that way. Floos all over the alley were turned off and in many cases, blocked off completely.

Lastly, guards were posted at the one remaining entrance to the Alley – the magical archway that led back to _The Leaky Cauldron_.

The combined, concerted effort took hours into the night to complete but by morning, Diagon Alley was as secure as the denizens could make it. And completely free of any influence of the Death Eaters or of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

As day dawned, the hardened and armed mob stood ready, waiting for either shoppers to arrive, after having been searched and checked for Dark Marks of course, or for You-Know-Who’s forces to come to try to take it back. They were prepared for either eventuality, which one they hoped for was never voiced.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry woke slowly. His senses switched on the moment that he realised where he was – the smells, the stiff bedding, the dim lighting were dead giveaways. The Hospital Wing.

With that realisation came remembrance. Harry’s heart sped up and his breathing increased, coming fast and shallow. Even in the dim lighting, he saw that his vision was blackening around the edges. Forcefully, using every mental technique that he had, he forced his mind to slow down. While not completely successful, the black disappeared and his heaving chest slowed to something more normal.

The panic, though, that was still there. Especially as he remembered what had happened.

Bill had been killed, a sharp piece of wire straight through his heart. Mad-eye, too, was dead, but whether from blood loss, the red-hot wire through his skull or the fiendfyre was hard to tell; all had had equal chance of killing him.

Mad-eye, though, had saved him, sending him back to Diricawl with a portkey. His memory of that part was still vague, but there were enough flashes in his mind to tell him that much.

And then he remembered his own injuries.

Harry wanted to examine them again, to see if what he’d seen before was right and not some horrid hallucination.

Wanting to start with the scar on his face, Harry lifted his left hand – his right being occupied by a sleeping Hermione. The sensation was there, but the fact that all he saw when his arm came up was a bandaged stump where there should have been a hand and lower part of his arm froze him. Once again, his breathing sped up and it took a very long time before he was able to move again.

His eyes focussed on the horrific injury, Harry slowly, carefully extradited his arm from Hermione’s grip. Tentatively, he reached across to touch his left arm. The bandages were thick and prevented him from feeling much of anything. The longer that he probed without feeling anything, the more panicked Harry became. He poked harder, squeezing his arm through the bandage until, with a _hiss_ he felt pain explode around his stump.

Tears fell from his eyes as he held the remains of his arm. He’d never be whole again. He’d now forever be the-armless-wonder or whatever derogatory name he’d be saddled with from now on. He’d never be able to play quidditch again or hold Hermione properly or play his saxophone. How he’d manage to do much of anything froze him. Even something simple like tying his shoelaces was now going to be impossible.

Harry sobbed quietly, not daring to make a sound to wake Hermione or to alert anyone that he was awake wanting _needing_ some time alone. He had no interest in being placated or pitied or the sorrowful expressions that were sure to come.

Eventually, Harry reached up with his right hand to wipe away his tears. His fingers, though, brushed against the new scar on his face and he allowed his fingers to probe it. It was long, nearly bisecting his face completely in two from upper right to lower left, forehead, nose, cheek. A fraction of an inch to either side and he would have lost an eye, instead it neatly cut straight through between his eyes.

Harry looked around but there was nothing that he could use as a mirror to see how bad it looked. He didn’t even have his wand or staff nearby to summon, transfigure or conjure one. His eyes widened and his breath once more began racing at the thought of his staff – what had happened to it? He knew that he’d taken it with him to Little Hangleton, but whether it returned with him was completely unknown. Somehow, he doubted it; he was barely conscious as it was, there was no way that he would have had the wherewithal to hold onto it when he’d been cut. Most likely, it’d been burnt up in Moody’s fiendfyre.

His last remaining injury was his left thigh. Harry probed at it, prodding away, eventually leading to giving his thigh a couple of good thumps. The pain that that brought was nothing unusual, leading him to believe that, regardless of the bandage that he still wore, his thigh was completely healed.

As he’d been examining himself, the light had steadily increased, leading Harry to conclude that dawn wasn’t far away.

He looked down at Hermione and smiled wryly – she was going to wake up with an awful crick in her back and neck. Slowly, hesitantly so as not to wake her, Harry lowered his hand on to her bushy head as it lay on his bed. His fingers began to card through her hair almost of their own accord.

She’d been there when he woke the first time, actually, now that he thought about it, she’d been the first face that he’d seen. And she was still here. He wondered if she’d actually left the Hospital Wing since he’d arrived. Harry determined to convince her go when she woke up, if only to shower and to get some food and fresh air. He didn’t need her hovering and didn’t want her neglecting herself because of him.

He may be a cripple now, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t do some things for himself – he just had to learn exactly what he was now capable of.

-oOoOo-

“Hey,” Harry said some time later to the stirring head of Hemione.

The sound of his voice shot her straight up and she winced, putting a hand behind her back.

“Harry! You’re awake,” she exclaimed. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Do you need a pain relief potion? Wait, I’ll get Healer Jeffries to come check you over.”

Harry snagged her hand as she began to rise, freezing her in place and making her look at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, a statement to which she immediately snorted before clasping a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she mumbled, lowering her head. “But I know that you’re anything but fine.”

“I am fine,” Harry asserted. “I’m not in any pain right now and haven’t been since I woke up.”

“When was that? Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked.

“A little before dawn and because you were sleeping,” he replied. “Besides, I … I wanted a bit of time to myself to … process things.”

Hermione looked intently at him, her chocolate brown eyes boring into his emerald green ones.

“And have you?” she asked.

Harry sighed. “No, not really. However, I think I’ve … started to.”

“Thank you for confiding that to me, Harry,” Hermione smiled as she settled on the bed beside him, her fingers once more entwined with his.

“You know I’ve gotten better at that sort of thing,” he said. “At least, somewhat. With you.”

Hermione leant down and gave him a soft kiss, a kiss that he returned ardently before he suddenly pulled away with a wince, his hand going to the corner of his mouth where he was cut.

“Sorry,” he said, “I think I stretched the skin or something.”

“That’s okay, Harry, you’re still healing,” she replied.

“Do you … do you have a mirror?” Harry asked softly.

Hermione stared at him intently for a minute before pulling her wand, looking around and transfiguring a glass into a flat mirror.

When Hermione held it out for him, Harry made to take it with his left hand. When nothing happened save the feeling of his bicep moving slightly, Harry closed his eyes, forced back the tears, turned slightly _away_ from his left and took the mirror with his right hand.

“Thank you,” he said and they both ignored the way his voice cracked.

Steeling himself for what he was about to see, Harry lifted his eyes and looked at his face in the mirror.

The scar that he’d been left with was hideous. A dark, angry red line cut his face in two drawing the eye like a magnet. His eyes slowly traced the scar from top to bottom. It went exactly where he’d thought that it did and indeed included a slice right on the edge of his mouth where he’d felt the skin pull.

“And I thought my lightning bolt scar was bad,” he intoned in a dead-sounding voice.

“Healer Jeffries said that it’d fade a bit over time and become more pink than red,” Hermione tried.

Harry stared at her.

“It’ll still be there for people to stare at,” he stated.

“Well, yes,” Hermione said before rushing on. “But people will grow used to it over time. _You_ will get used to it as well. And everyone who knows you will only see _you_ , not the scar.”

“Beautifully said, Miss Granger,” Healer Jeffries said as she came around the dividers.

Harry dropped the mirror into his lap and shifted his face away.

“I would have liked to have been called as soon as you woke up, young man,” Healer Jeffries admonished gently.

Harry gave a shrug. It was one thing to talk to Hermione, to have her see him when he knew, well, at least, was fairly certain, that she wouldn’t reject him for his new scars and crippled state but for someone he hardly knew … that he wasn’t comfortable with, _that_ was a different cauldron of potion.

Harry’s attitude barely seemed to register with the Healer as she simply stepped up to the bed and began scanning him with her wand. She nodded and hummed as she worked and Harry guessed that that meant that she was happy with how he was progressing.

She’d barely finished when three heads appeared around the corner.

“Knock knock,” Sirius said, “everyone decent in here?”

“Yes, Sirius and well and truly on the mend,” Healer Jeffries replied.

Harry then had to suffer not only Sirius, but also Remus and Minerva approaching him and giving him their own once over, including scuffing his hair or patting him on the shoulder or leg.

“You seem in good spirits this morning,” Remus commented.

Harry shrugged, sinking down on the bed a bit as he withdrew from them all. Yes, he knew that they cared about him. Yes, he figured that they’d been worried. And, yes, he understood that they’d seen him like this for the past few days, when he’d been unconscious. That didn’t mean that he wanted them looking at his deformed state now. Or having them hovering over him.

“I assume that Harry’s already asked when he can get out of here?” Minerva smiled at Healer Jeffries.

“Actually, no,” she was informed.

Three sets of eyebrows were raised as surprised looks were turned on Harry. In reply he simply shrugged, looked off to the side and sent his mind whirling, trying to find something _else_ that they could talk about other than him.

“So, what’s been happening in the world while I’ve been taking a nap?” he finally asked.

“Actually, I don’t know,” a confused Sirius replied. “The _Daily Prophet_ ’s late today. I can’t remember the last time it was this late.”

-oOoOo-

Theodore Nott Senior walked into the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as confidently as he could, his fears buried, his trembling all but stopped. His throat was thick but he was sure that he could get the information to his Master without it catching in his throat.

He only hoped that he wouldn’t be killed for delivering it.

Walking up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables – both all but empty, just as Gryffindor’s was – Nott felt his Lord’s eyes on him. At the appropriate place, he stopped and dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

After only a short pause, he heard the Dark Lord address him.

“Rise, Nott and report.”

Nott pushed himself to his feet, making sure that his head remained lowered so that at no time would his eyes even stray towards his Master’s face.

“My Lord, your copy of the _Daily Prophet_ never arrived this morning,” Nott began. “I sent men to find out why. When they didn’t return, I sent a second team. They just reported back.”

“By your posture and tone, I suspect that I should be expecting … disappointing news,” the Dark Lord asked lightly.

“Yes, my Lord,” Nott replied, before swallowing and forcing the words out precisely so that he wouldn’t have to repeat them. “Some time during the night, some witches and wizards seized Diagon Alley. They have cut off all Floo access and raised anti-portkey and anti-apparition charms. The entrance to Knockturn Alley has also been barricaded with spell-resistance bricks. The only way in or out is through the archway to _The Leaky Cauldron_ which is now guarded.”

“Really?” an amused Lord Voldemort asked. “They truly think that they can defy me?”

The Dark Lord’s expression hardened as his gaze swept the Great Hall.

“You have done well, Nott. Now, gather my faithful in force and go show these upstarts the punishment for defying Lord Voldemort,” he hissed. “Leave none alive and destroy any building that harboured such fools.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Nott replied with a bow. “It shall be done.”

Spinning, Nott began striding up between the tables once more, gathering those in the Hall with a flick of his head or a gesture. By the time that he reached the door, a multitude of black-cloaked, white-masked witches and wizards, wands in hand, were ready to do what they loved best: attack, torture, destroy and kill.

-oOoOo-

Nearly four dozen Death Eaters portkeyed into _The Leaky Cauldon_ , wands drawn and ready for battle. Unusually, the old pub was completely empty; not even old Tom was behind his bar.

“You twelve, with me,” Nott ordered. “The rest of you follow as soon as we’re through. Split into teams of four and go door to door. I want everyone – man, woman and child – in that Alley found and brought out. Dump them in front of Gringotts, we’ll deal with them all there. Make sure that they’re alive. If they’re a little roughed up, so be it. We’re here to teach them a lesson, nothing’s been said about not having a little fun along the way.”

Underneath the masks, all grinned at their orders and there were a number who licked their lips in anticipation.

At Nott’s direction, the small courtyard directly behind the pub that hid the entrance to Diagon Alley was filled with conjured and transfigured walls and pillars. When every Death Eater was in place, hidden behind their defences, Nott ordered one of the junior members to tap their wand to open the archway.

The sliding, grinding of the bricks shifting about gave the Death Eater just enough time to scramble back and away, taking up position behind a nearby wall.

And then they fired.

A sea of green killing curses sailed forth through the archway before it had even fully formed. The cries of surprise at the unexpected attack was as music to their ears, as was the _thumps_ of bodies hitting the cobblestones.

Jets of orange, deep red, indigo and sickly yellow came back at them but the Death Eaters simply hid behind their defences, letting the curses strike stone and marble, chipping off bits of it but otherwise doing no harm.

At the first lull, the Death Eaters leant out from cover and retaliated, sending more killing curses, torture curses, bone-breakers, entrail expulsion hexes, blood boiling curses and the like back through the archway. The very air seemed to be filled with screams and cries, the sound of fear overarching all and causing the Death Eaters to smile.

From where he stood, firing curse after curse, Nott could see his remaining forces straining to join in.

“Retreat! Get back! Find some better cover!” a panicked voice yelled from beyond the archway.

Nott stepped out, his wand ready with a shield just in case. When nothing flew at him, he grinned.

“Let’s go find them, boys,” he said.

-oOoOo-

A blasting curse reduced the shop door to rubble and Mulciber strode forth, the wands of the three newer recruits at his back.

A jet of red, a simple stunner, shot at him and he batted it away before snapping a bone-breaker back. The cry of the victim, followed by the clatter of wood told him that he’d hit his mark.

Zeroing in on where the stunner had come from, Mulciber rounded the shop’s counter. Cowering behind it, scrabbling on the floor for the fallen wand, was a balding man with the stomach of too many butterbeers. A simple cutting curse took care of the wand, slicing it cleanly in two. A further snap of his wand bound the man, his arms pulled tight against him by the ropes, eliciting a scream of pure agony as the bone that was already broken now pierced his skin.

A whimper spun Mulciber around and he banished the barrel to the side. Behind it he found a woman, obviously the man’s wife and a girl, not long out of Hogwarts by the look of her,

“Take him to the meeting point,” Mulciber commanded, not even looking at the shopkeeper or his team. “I’ll be along shortly after I’ve had a little bit of fun.”

-oOoOo-

Jugson examined the wall that had been built at the junction of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. It was solid and, judging by the way that it’d been resisting his spellfire, had been constructed exceptionally well. Individual rune sets on each block, if he wasn’t mistaken. The fact that it’d been built in a single night was astounding. He wondered what the Master would do about it.

The flash of light that passed him, barely missing by an inch to splash harmlessly against said wall, spun him around and dropped him into a crouch. The hint of movement in a window directly across the Alley was all the notice that he got before a spell, vibrant blue in colour, shot towards him.

Jugson shielded, cocked his head when no second shot came and smiled. Whoever it was in there was obviously alone. And clearly outclassed. Standing up, Jugson let loose with a volley of exploding hexes, stepping forward as he cast each one.

The third had only just left his wand when the first hit. Timber exploded, sending pieces of wood flying. The window shattered. By the time the third hit, a massive, smoking hole was all that was left of the front of the shop.

Jugson strode across, making sure to keep his wand ready, not that he expected that he’d need it. He was right. The lone wizard was all but buried under the rubble, Jugson’s nose wrinkling when he realised that the man was still alive, albeit unconscious. It’d be so easy to simply kill him where he lay, but orders were orders.

Grumbling under his breath, Jugson began vanishing enough of the debris in order to have the man dragged out and taken to the steps of Gringotts with the others.

-oOoOo-

Nott stood on the third marble step leading up to Gringotts Bank, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the prisoners below.

There were just under a hundred of them. Most were on their knees, their head bowed. Others lay where they’d been dropped, either unconscious or so despair of hope that they saw no point in moving. Many were moaning, rocking backwards and forwards, holding their injuries, tears streaming from their eyes.

A quick count told Nott that all but a handful of his Death Eaters were standing around guarding the prisoners, meaning that almost all of the flobberworm-for-brained idiots had been found.

The appearance of the last of his Death Eaters had Nott nod. Above their heads, twisting and writhing and screaming under the levitation spell combined with the torture curse of two of the Death Eaters, was a young man in his mid-twenties.

A meaty _thwack_ resounded around the early morning Alley as the man was dropped from a height of seven feet to the cobblestones below. The man continued to twitch and jerk and moan as he lay there, even bereft of the curses.

Nott raised an eyebrow, not that anyone could see with his mask in place. Regardless, something of his questioning nature must have shone through for the lead Death Eater stepped forward.

“This one,” he said, giving the prone man a kick for emphasis, “we found sending some kind of message through the Floo system.”

“What was the message and who was it to?” Nott asked.

The Death Eater shook his head. “Don’t know. He’d shut off the Floo before we could get to it. And so far, he’s refused to talk.”

“Has he now?” Nott asked interestedly. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

Turning to the man, Nott whipped out his wand and a jet of red light spat forth, impacting the man in his chest and sending him screaming, his face twisted in excruciating pain as the torture curse took effect. After a minute, Nott released the curse.

“Now. Who were you contacting and what was the message?” he asked.


	18. Chapter 18

The unexpected sight of a goblin running from around the dividers that blocked Harry’s bed from the rest of the Hospital Wing and then sliding the last meter on the tiled floor shocked everyone to silence.

“Chert? Is something wrong?” Minerva quickly asked.

The Security Goblin of Diricawl straightened, stepped across to the Headmistress and handed her a piece of parchment.

“This came through the Floo not five minutes ago,” Chert stated. “I have checked it for any curses and charms, including tracking, explosions, apparition and portkey. It is clear.”

Minerva opened the note, her eyes rapidly reading over it before she lowered her hand and shook her head slightly.

“The fools,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Sirius asked.

In response, Minerva merely handed over the note. Noting everyone looking at him, Sirius read it aloud.

“ _Potter, Bones, Black,_

_We have followed your lead and fought back, retaking Diagon Alley from the Death Eaters overnight. Apparition and portkey wards are in place the length of the Alley and a wall now cuts us off from Knockturn. The only way in is through the_ Caulron. _The Death Eaters started fighting back this morning. They’re killing us. Please, we need your help!_ ”

The silence that that followed that was broken by Chert.

“I have had it confirmed,” he stated. “The Death Eaters are gathering their prisoners in front of Gringotts.”

“Will the goblins do something?” Remus asked.

Chert shook his head. “The Goblin Nation will not be drawn in to a fight, for either side. They are content to let you wizards fight your war and wait to reopen when the threat to the bank has passed.”

“Riddle’s not going to take that lightly. He _will_ eventually go after Gringotts; you’ve got everyone’s gold in your vaults,” Sirius stated.

“Let him try!” Chert grinned menacingly.

Harry shifting on the bed caught everyone’s attention, especially as he began swinging his legs over the side of it.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Going to help them,” Harry replied flatly. “They asked for my help; I can’t not go when they’re being slaughtered. Now, where are my wand and staff?”

Dobby popping in with both, the elf near bouncing on his toes to hand them over had Harry smiling.

“I thought I lost them in the Gaunt shack,” he said, taking the staff first. “Thank you, Dobby.”

“Harry, you’re not going anywhere,” Hermione firmly stated, pushing on his chest to get him to lie back down.

“No, Hermione,” Harry retorted. “I may be a cripple now, but I’m not helpless.”

“You are _not_ a cripple!” Hermione near-yelled. “Missing part of one arm does not make you a cripple!”

It was the first time that she’d even mentioned the injury to him and she immediately slapped a hand over her mouth.

“If you say so,” Harry replied flatly.

“You’re not going, anywhere,” Sirius stated. “You’re in the Hospital Wing for a reason.”

Harry’s head turned to pin Healer Jeffries with a fierce, determined look.

“Am I well enough to be discharged?” he asked.

“Physically, yes, in a pinch” she hedged. “Emotionally, mentally, though, _that_ I have yet to determine.”

“Brilliant! In that case, I’m discharging myself,” he said, standing up and only wincing slightly as his weight settled onto the leg that had been pierced.

“Harry, be reasonable,” Remus retorted. “You need to stay here until _all_ of you is well.”

“Remus, Sirius, Hermione, you know that I _can’t_ stay here if people need my help. Especially if they’ve _asked_ for it!” he replied forcefully. “Besides, I’m an adult, I’m well within my rights to discharge myself.”

While Chert simply nodded his head once in firm agreement of the warrior-like attitude that Harry was displaying, the other four looked at each other doubtfully.

“I could simply stun you and put you back in that bed,” Sirius said.

Harry simply quirked an eyebrow at him as Dobby took a step forward, one hand raised. Jaxom and Neri popping into existence with identical fierce expressions added to Harry’s defence.

“You’d really challenge me like that on Potter ancestral lands?” Harry asked before shaking his head roughly. “Look! All this is doing is wasting time. The longer we dawdle here, the more people are being killed out there!”

“Alright,” Sirius finally conceded. “If you’re so willing to try to get yourself killed again, then I’m going with you. If nothing else, I can watch your back.”

“I’m going, too,” Hermione stated.

“No, you’re not,” Minerva replied commandingly. “ _He_ may be an adult; _you_ are not. However, we will gather everyone who _is_ willing to go so that these two and all the people in Diagon Alley have a chance.”

“I’ll spread the word,” Remus said, disappearing at a run.

Harry nodded at them before looking down at Dobby.

“Can you get me my wand holster and some appropriate clothes for a battle, please?” he asked.

“Right away, Master Harry Potter Sir,” Dobby replied, nodding his head so fast that his ears flapped before _popping_ away.

-oOoOo-

Harry was pleased with the outfit that Dobby had picked for him to go into battle. The black cargo pants with their many pockets was useful. The boots were sturdy and comfortable. He wore his jacket zipped up, the lower sleeve of his left arm pinned up out of the way so that it wasn’t likely to go flapping about in the coming battle. Dobby had attached his wand holster to Harry’s right forearm and placed his wand in it, as backup.

What Harry wasn’t pleased about as he entered the Security Office of Diricawl was the fact that he was limping heavily with the injury to his left thigh. Indeed, his staff had become even more useful and he was extremely glad that it’d somehow survived the horror that was the Gaunt shack and made it back to the island with him. He vowed to work that leg as much as possible to get it back up to full strength and mobility as quickly as possible.

As his presence was noted, heads turned in his direction, gasps aplenty were heard and everyone stared at the wicked scar that marred his face.

Determinedly, Harry stared back, desperately trying not to let their reactions show on his face.

A sea of faces that he knew filled the Security Room. Sirius, Remus, Croaker and Amelia stood nearest the door leading to the Receiving Room. Brendan Abbot, Horatio Moon, Alexander Davis and Godfrey Spinnet were clustered together to one side. Three red-heads – Arthur, Fred and George – stood with their heads lowered somewhat, their wands in their hands. Five ex-aurors, their red robes replaced with civilian garb stood ready, looking eager. A half dozen others, looking nervous, shifting from foot to foot were scattered about as well.

“Chert?” Harry asked, noting the goblin standing to the side with his arms crossed, his axe leaning on him with its head resting on the ground.

“My place is here guarding the island,” the Security Goblin replied.

Harry simply nodded, not wanting to push what was clearly a conflict of duty and desire for battle coursing through the goblin.

“Thank you all for coming.” Amelia said, her voice raised above the crowd. “We have little time if we want to save those people in Daigon Alley. Our plan is simple. As the only way into the Alley is through the _Leaky Cauldron_ , that’s where we’re headed. We will portkey in to an alley just around the corner from the _Cauldron_ on the muggle side. We get into the pub; take down any guards and make our way in to the Alley.

“Intelligence says that the DEs and their prisoners are in front of Gringotts. We’ll split into two groups to move down both sides of the street, using what cover we can. As soon as we’re in position, we hit them hard and fast. I won’t lie, there are a lot of them, at least forty. They outnumber us, but we’ll have the element of surprise. Plus, if we can get those prisoners free, then we should get some help from them but don’t count on it, see it as a bonus if it eventuates.”

Amelia gave one last look over the assembled group before nodding.

“Let’s go!”

In quick order, they poured through the door into the only place that they could portkey from the island and clustered around the three prepared ropes that had been charmed to take them where they needed to go.

“Alright there, Harry?” Fred asked more serious than Harry had ever heard him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry replied grimly.

“Good,” George nodded.

Harry was forced to awkwardly grab the rope and his staff with the one hand, somehow managing the feat without dropping either.

“Activate,” Croaker called and in a swirl of multicoloured lights, the three groups vanished.

-oOoOo-

The two guards left in the pub were put down hard, both receiving multiple hexes and ending up with their wand arms broken, a plethora of cuts and being bound in ropes. A pair of stunners knocked them out before they were stashed behind the bar.

“We’ll deal with them later,” Amelia stated grimly.

She and Croaker shared a glance and both knew the unspoken question of _exactly how_ was unknown.

Cautiously, the magical arch was opened and peeked through. Surprisingly, there were no guards posted here.

“Sloppy,” Sirius commented shaking his head.

“Don’t go complaining that they’ve got the brains of a flobberworm,” Remus retorted.

With Amelia taking the lead of half of their force and Croaker the remainder, they slowly moved down the Alley. Every piece of cover was utilized as, one by one, they manoeuvred themselves from shop front to shop front, making sure to spread out so that they didn’t present a large tempting target if they were seen.

Finally, the scene in front of Gringotts came into view and they shuffled about, hiding away as they took it all in.

There were easily three dozen Death Eaters, all in their full regalia, which meant that Bellatrix Lestrange wasn’t one of them, she being the only one to forego her mask at all times. A single Death Eater was standing on the steps to Gringotts, clearly the man in charge. And every single Death Eater was looking inwards at the crowd of prisoners at their feet that they encircled.

Most of the prisoners were huddled on the ground, some still, others twitching. A few were on their knees. The sound of crying and moaning emanating from them told the story of how many were injured and scared. While it once appeared that there had been close to a hundred prisoners, the stack of bodes lying piled on top of each other to one side told that that number had been reduced to about seventy.

As they watched, two Death Eaters marched in, grabbed a witch under her arms and dragged her out of the circle towards the marble steps, now stained red. Piercing screams permeated the air as she kicked and struggled, all to no avail.

“For your crimes against your lord and master, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, you receive the same punishment as those before you: one hundred cutting curses,” the lead Death Eater stated.

Amelia’s eyes were darting about, formulating tactics that would see them have the best chance of success. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite ready yet, and even if she was, she hadn’t had a chance to relay it to her attack squad, which meant that she was going to have to let that poor woman suffer.

That decision, though, was taken from her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” a strong, clear, commanding voice called out.

Instantly, every head in the alley – Death Eater, prisoner and hidden rescue force – turned to the centre of the street. Death Eater wands shot up, taking aim at the intruder.

Standing in the middle of street, appearing unconcerned with the forty plus wands trained on him, stood Harry Potter. His legs were braced, giving no sign of his recent leg injury. His distinctive rowan staff was held loosely in one hand across his body, its red ruby glowing slightly near his head.

“Potter!” the lead Death Eater hissed.

At his gesture, his fellows held their fire, his head cocked.

“One against forty-eight isn’t good arithmancy, Potter. No one’s that good. Not even you,” the Death Eater stated.

Harry simply shrugged.

“Well, when I heard what was happening here, did you really expect me to stay home and do nothing?” he asked.

“Indulge my curiosity, before we kill you, Potter. What in Merlin’s name happened to you? Which wizard does my Lord need to reward for that cut on your face and for cutting off your arm?” the Death Eater asked.

“We’re going to need some kind of distraction,” Amelia hissed to those behind her. “And it’s going to need to be big.”

“No wizard. No witch for that matter, either,” Harry replied. “I just had an unexpected lesson in cruse breaking. As you can see, I’ve still got a bit to learn.”

“That’s not something that you’ll ever need to worry about,” the Death Eater laughed. “Tell you what, after all this blood and destruction this morning, I’m feeling generous. I’ll let you take the first shot. Then, after we’ve had our turn, we can get back to what we were doing.”

“We need that distraction _now_!” Amelia asked.

“Ask and you shall receive,” one of the Weasley twins replied.

“I get the first spell?’ Harry asked joyfully. “Can it be anything?”

“Whatever you want, Potter. But no Unforgivables. It wouldn’t look right for the Chosen One to be using such dark spells,” the Death Eater said, wagging his finger at Harry.

“In that case, I choose …” Harry began before lifting his staff high and bringing it down hard onto the cobblestones with a resounding _crack_.

How he knew how to time it, Amelia never knew but at the exact instant that Harry’s staff hit the ground, the blasting noise of a dozen Decoy Detonators erupted all over the Alley between the circle of Death Eaters and prisoners and the hidden Diricawl force.

Death Eater wands swung every which way, snapping about and away from Harry as they tried to locate the unexpected noise.

And then the _big_ distraction hit. A massive **_boom_ ** shook the Alley as an explosion further down shook the very ground that they all stood upon. Everybody spun to look as dozens of fireworks exploded in every colour and configuration imaginable – stars, pinwheels, animals, sparklers in the shape of rude words and whizzing rockets.

Harry, though, had used the distraction well. The instant that the Decoy Detonators hit, he began swinging his staff up. The second the fireworks went off, he let loose with a string of _bombarda_ s.

The first hit the lead Death Eater in the middle of his back, exploding the man nearly in two, blood, guts and bits of bone raining down all over the steps, including the cowering witch that he had been about to curse. Harry’s next three hit his next three targets with just as much impact if with slightly less power with each one. One Death Eater had his shoulder vaporised, the second lost his wand arm and the third fell to the ground screaming, his thigh nothing but a bloody mess.

Harry’s curses and the screams that they produced snapped the rest of the combatants into action.

Diricawl’s forces had the smallest advantage, being able to cast in the direction that they were facing as opposed to the Death Eaters who had to spin back around to face their attacker, and then realise that there was more than just one, before they could cast.

Dozens of curses of every colour crisscrossed the street. Men were being hit with cutting curses, bone breakers, exploding hexes and all manner of spell. Green killing curses were being shot with abandon, only to hit the cover that the Diricawl crowd were hiding behind, exploding that cover and causing even more damage, just not necessarily death.

At the first spell, Harry hunkered down, raising his most powerful shield and running to the side.

One Death Eater, seeing him moving, began casting specifically at him. After the first two spells impacted his shield, weakening it slightly with each hit, Harry paused mid-step to let the next two spells, a sickly yellow one and a vibrant red that he suspected was a cruciatus, pass harmlessly in front of him.

Spinning about, Harry began firing back.

_“Bombarda! Diffindo! Flippendo!”_

What was even more surprising was the fact that, of the three, the last was the only one that hit, sending the Death Eater spinning away through the air.

Harry took the brief moment to spin his hand around his staff, causing it to rotate in front of him in a great circle before he grasped it fully once more and slashed that circle with two diagonal movements.

_“Contorquet gladii!_ ” he cried.

Instantly, a pair of whirling, razor sharp swords erupted from his staff, spinning the distance between Harry and the Death Eater before impacting the robed man, slicing him into seven bloody, messy, pieces.

A meaty _whap_ behind him spun Harry around.

There, close to the steps of Gringotts, was a Death Eater lying face down, clearly dead. Harry blinked at the unexpected object protruding from the body. Striding across, Harry knelt down, dropped his wand and pulled the dagger from the man’s back. He gave it a quick wipe on the Death Eater’s robes before sticking it in his belt at his back, picked up his staff and gave a single nod towards the great marble bank.

Quickly, Harry re-joined the fray, casting as quickly as he could, dodging the spells sent his way when he could and shielding when he had to. His primary direction, though, was towards the prisoners still hunkered on the ground, their hands over their heads as they obviously tried to stay out of the fight. As soon as he was close enough, he switched to being purely defensive, using his shields to guard the prisoners as best as he could.

Finally, the spells stopped and the only coloured light shooting about the alley being the stray firework that had yet to dissipate.

“Round them up,” Amelia ordered as she strode down the middle of the alley. “Make sure you check them for portkeys. Get their wands and bind and stun them.”

“Two got away,” Croaker reported as she joined her. “Managed to get past us in the confusion and made it to the _Cauldron_. I gave chase but they portkeyed out before I could tag them.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” she said. “How’d we fare?”

“We lost four,” Remus replied, walking up. “David Yeates, Aaron Grandley, Liam O’Harran and Brendan Abbot.”

“Damn,” Amelia swore. “Make sure that they come back with us. Get a force on the entrance to the Alley. And let’s see about getting these people checked and healed.”

“Is Harry alright?” Remus asked.

“Idiot shouldn’t be,” Croaker stated, “walking out to taunt the DEs like that. He’s lucky we had his back.”

“I suspect that’s _why_ he did it,” Amelia replied. “But he saved that woman and gave us the opening that we needed.”

“We knew you’d come,” a grateful voice near sobbed from behind them. “Thank you. Thank you so much. We owe you our lives.”

-oOoOo-

Two Death Eaters all but slunk into the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Their entrance, as much as they might have wished otherwise, was duly noted.

“What have you to report?” Lord Voldemort asked.

The two shared a look before quickstepping down the Hall and falling on the ground at their master’s feet.

“Report!” Voldemort ordered. “Where are the rest your brethren that went to teach those upstarts in Diagon Alley a lesson.”

“We were attacked, my Lord,” one stated quickly. “We had won the Alley back and then Potter showed up.”

“Potter?” Voldemort repeated. “There were four dozen of you; how could one boy hope to believe that he could attack so many?”

“He wasn’t alone,” the Death Eater replied. “There were a couple of dozen of them. We think that one of the shopkeepers sent a message to Diricawl and they came from there.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “Where are Nott, Mulciber and Jugson?”

“Captured or dead, my Lord,” the Death Eater reported.

“I saw Potter kill Nott with a _bombarda_ to the back,” the other added.

“ _Show me_!” Voldemort hissed.

Knowing what was required, both lifted their heads, their eyes reluctantly rising to meet the red slits of their master.

Lord Voldemort delved into first one mind and then the other. He saw the Alley being retaken and the pathetic witches and wizards who thought that they could stand against him rounded up and penned like the sheep they were. And then he saw Potter. Voldemort focussed harder on the image, ignoring the whimpers from the man whose mind he was invading.

Potter had suffered of late. Part of his left arm was missing and a nasty cut had been slashed across his face. Intently, he listened to Potter’s words. A curse breaking lesson? As far as Lord Voldemort knew, there _were_ no tombs or ancient places on the island that would need a curse breaker to get into. The only places that would require one in Britain would be …

Lord Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. Quickly he delved through their minds, seeking and taking the images of the battle. Just as fast, he withdrew. His wand was in his hand in a second and a pair of green killing curses were launched at the failures.

If there was even a chance … This warranted his complete, undivided attention.


	19. Chapter 19

Diagon Alley looked as though a tornado had torn through it. Most businesses had suffered some kind of damage, be it having their doors blown off, their windows smashed or stock destroyed, smashed on the ground or, in the worst cases, set on fire.

The fact that the Death Eaters responsible had succeeded in such carnage in less than an hour told the story of how proficient they were at such destruction. That and how much they enjoyed it.

In the largest area of the Alley, which happened to be directly outside Gringotts Bank, Amelia Bones had set up her ‘command area’.

Witches and wizards, the everyday people of the Alley, were coming and going, receiving instructions of which shop needed the most help in getting repaired. What few aurors that Amelia had at her disposal were currently divided, half back at the entrance to Diagon Alley to do what they could to safeguard the Alley entire; the remainder guarding the prisoners.

Those happened to be the two biggest headaches for her at the moment.

Amelia knew that it was only a matter of time before a retaliation was made against the Alley, either by Riddle and his Death Eaters coming in force or, just as likely, the ‘official’ Ministry aurors arriving to take charge and to arrest everyone who had ‘disturbed the peace’.

As for the prisoners … Amelia glanced again at the row of bound and stunned bodies lying there. Thirty-one of the original forty-six Death Eaters had survived the battle. Thirty-one wizards that had been responsible for the griffin’s share of the damage and the death of thirty-eight people.

Exactly what she was going to do with them, she had no idea. Azkaban was useless, having no wards and being under Riddle’s control anyway. And it wasn’t as though she had the resources to stash them somewhere and guard them for the duration of the war, a war that could easily last for months if not longer. Executing them, she supposed, was an option but not one that she wanted to consider.

“Ma’am?” one of her few aurors asked, interrupting her contemplation.

“Graham?” she replied before frowning. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the entrance to the Alley?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “I’ll head right back, but we may have a problem there.”

Amelia frowned and gestured for him to continue.

“People are starting to arrive,” he said. “I mean, ordinary people, not Ministry personnel. They’ve heard what happened here and either want to see it for themselves or want to help or want to shop.”

This last was said incredulously, an expression that Amelia felt in full.

“How’d they find out what happened?” she asked, knowing that she was stalling the answer to the auror’s unasked question.

“I don’t know, Ma’am,” Graham replied.

“Irrelevant,” Amelia said to them both. “Well, if they want to help, let them. Set up some sort of check point system where they have to prove that they’re not a Death Eater before being allowed entry.”

“What about the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards that were put up?” Graham asked.

“Keep them in place. In fact, if you can, reinforce them,” Amelia commanded. “For now, the Alley’s a safe haven for people, let’s try to keep it that way.”

Auror Graham had barely marched off when Croaker approached from the opposite direction.

“Well?” she asked as soon as he was in hearing range.

Croaker, as an Unspeakable was wont to do, waited until he was close enough to be able to talk to her without anyone overhearing before replying and only then used a soft, quiet voice.

“That wall’s been built to last,” he stated. “From what I can tell, it’s staying up. Of course, I added a few minor enchantments to reinforce some of the weaker sections.”

“So, you’re confident that the denizens of Knockturn will stay on their side of it? They won’t be bringing it down?” she asked.

“No,” Croaker replied. “The two alleys are now completely separated.”

“Good,” Amelia stated with a nod. “At least we won’t have to worry about any DEs coming at us from our blind side.”

The two paused their conversation for a moment, watching as a half dozen witches and wizards came together from three separate directions and had a quick discussion before all hustled off together.

“I saw Potter on the way here,” Croaker commented offhandedly.

Amelia looked askance at her friend. “How is he?”

“Seems fine, although he was leaning fairly heavily on that staff of his,” Croaker replied. “He was alone and heading into _Hermione’s Book Nook_ when I passed it. Looked to be one of the few buildings that didn’t sustain any damage.”

“Probably because of those goblin wards he paid to be put up,” Amelia replied.

“If only we all had wards like that,” Croaker commented.

“If only the goblins hadn’t decided to sit out the war,” Amelia countered.

Shocked-sounding murmurs around them had both Amelia and Croaker looking up, their hands instantly moving to grasp the handle of their wands. When they realised that the people were staring past them, the two spun about.

At the top of the great marble steps leading up to Gringotts Bank stood a delegation of eight goblins. Six were obviously guards, with their armour and halberds, axes on their backs and swords on their hips. The other two appeared to be banker goblins, wearing their old-fashioned, muggle-style business suits. Past the goblins, the bank doors remained firmly closed, just as they’d been since the war began.

Amelia and Croaker shared a significant look with each before both began climbing the steps, making sure to stop three steps below the goblins, their hands in full view at all times and far away from their wands.

“Good day, honoured Sirs,” Amelia said, inclining her head slightly.

“Madam Bones, Unspeakable Croaker,” the elder of the two goblins replied.

Croaker frowned slightly. He hated it when someone knew an Unspeakable’s true identity and somehow, the goblins always knew. He’d assumed that it had something to do with a piece of magic embedded inside Gringotts but he was obviously wrong. One of these days, he’d find out exactly how they did that.

“It is good to see you out from Gringotts,” Amelia said. “Can we assume that Gringotts will reopen soon?”

“No,” the goblin stated firmly. “Nor will we enter your war.”

“Then may I ask the purpose of your delegation?” Croaker asked.

“Gringotts has a business proposition which we believe you are in need of,” the goblin replied.

Again, Amelia and Croaker shared a look.

“We’re listening,” Amelia stated.

“If our understanding of your situation is accurate, you are fighting back against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and making actual headway,” the goblin began.

“We are,” Amelia stated.

“Do you believe that the war will be over soon? And will it be in your favour?” the goblin asked.

“Yes, we have dealt a major blow to Riddle, one that severely weakens him and one that he is currently unaware of. And I’m not talking about what happened here this morning,” Croaker stated.

The goblin nodded slightly.

“In that case, our question to you is, what are your plans for the prisoners that you have collected? We know that Azkaban is unavailable for its primary use and that Diricawl is no place for the likes of them,” the goblin stated.

“Not that the wards would let them through anyway with those Marks on their arms,” Croaker stated.

“And you’re right, we haven’t decided what we’re going to do with them yet,” Amelia added.

“In that case, Gringotts offers to ‘house’ your prisoners for the duration of your war. For a fee of course and your vow of silence that we have done so,” the goblin stated.

“We have little gold to pay you with,” Croaker hedged.

“Gringotts would be happy to charge the service to the Ministry of Magic,” the goblin stated.

Amelia and Croaker held a quick, nonverbal discussion.

“We would like to take Gringotts up on its proposal,” Amelia said. “Thank you.”

“How would you like to do this?” Croaker asked.

-oOoOo-

Lord Voldemort stared around him, his red eyes narrowed.

Yes, this was the spot. He was sure of it.

The cupboard may be on its side and broken now, but he was certain that it was the right one. A hint of white caught his attention and he swished his wand, causing the rubble on top of it to vanish. He was even more certain now. That was definitely the bust that he’d placed the diadem on.

In a panic, Voldemort began vanishing or banishing away everything around him. Old books, quills, a broken chair, a small table, the lot, it went. Finally, when the space around him had grown to over ten feet in every direction, he had to admit his fear: the diadem was gone.

Worse than that, _Potter_ had been right here when he’d fired that killing curse at him.

The odds of the curse hitting the diadem was astronomical. No, more than likely, for some inexplicable reason, _Potter_ had taken the diadem with him.

And if even one of his most precious secrets fell into the wrong hands …

Spinning about so fast that his robes make a light _flawp_ that echoed in the silence, Voldemort strode from the room. He needed to check that the others were still safe.

-oOoOo-

“Harry? You in here?” Fred called, poking his head in through the door of _Hermione’s Book Nook_.

“Over here,” Harry called.

Together, the twins entered and turned towards the direction that Harry’s voice had come from.

_Hermione’s Book Nook_ looked next to nothing like the last time that they were there. All the shelves still stood in place but each and every one was barren, stripped of its contents. A glance up to the mezzanine level showed that the shelves there were in the same condition. Once there had also been a number of small tables and chairs here for those who wanted to read or eat or drink something from the small café part of the store, but they, too, were gone.

Harry, they found, behind the small counter on the café side, leaning on it and facing them, a butterbeer in his hand.

“Looks a little sparse,” George commented.

“Death Eaters need a little light bedtime reading?” Fred asked.

“Nah, I had Dobby and Jaxom pop in here when Beth and Mickey moved out, just before the goblin wards went up,” Harry replied. “They’ve got everything in storage so that Beth didn’t lose everything if the worst happened.”

“Good idea, that,” Fred nodded

“Can’t run a business without stock,” added George.

“We know that all too well,” Fred finished.

Harry straightened, then and looked hard at the two. Placing his bottle on the counter, Harry grabbed two more before sliding them onto the counter, grabbed his staff, walked around the counter, re-leant it again, handed a bottle to each twin and retrieved his own.

“ _This_ ,” Harry said, gesturing with his bottle towards his left side, “is going to take a bit to get used to.”

“Are you okay, Harry?” George asked concernedly.

Harry shrugged before instantly changing the topic.

“Thanks for your help out there,” he said. “I know that that was your stuff that caused that distraction.”

“Whatever we can do to help,” George said seriously.

“The sooner this war’s over the better,” Fred added. “The less people that might die because of it, the better.”

“I’m sorry about Bill,” Harry said sincerely. “Please believe me that there was nothing that anyone could have done. It all happened too fast. I’d give anything for you to have Bill back.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Fred said, reaching out to lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“We know you would and we don’t blame you,” George said.

“Bill probably went the way he wanted – on a job, trying to get the treasure,” Fred said sadly.

“I don’t think he would have wanted to go at all. But he did get the treasure, there was just one trap too many, it seems,” Harry said. He raised his bottle then. “To Bill!”

“To Bill!” the twins echoed.

They took a long swig from their bottles and stood comfortably together in the silence of the empty shop.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you two and this seems as good a time as any,” Harry said, eliciting two interested looks directed at him. “You know that this place is just one of two shops in the building that I own?” At their nods, he continued. “The other one’s always been empty. I’d like to offer it to you guys for your joke shop. It’s just like this one, including the cellar and the flat above.”

“This isn’t because of Bill, is it?” Fred asked suspiciously.

“‘Cause we don’t need you offering something because you feel guilty,” George added.

“No!” Harry replied quickly, before shaking his head. “Maybe. A little. But I’ve been considering it for a while now. Look, I know that you two are great at pranks and the stuff you create is amazing. I also know that you want to open a shop.”

“ _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_ ,” George nodded.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “So, what do you say? Interested in renting from me?”

Fred and George held up identical fingers before turning and bending their heads together. The conversation was short and consisted of mostly raised eyebrows, pointed glances and shoulder twitches. Finally, they turned back.

“We will agree on one condition,” Fred began.

“That you agree to be a partner,” George finished.

Harry immediately shook his head. “No, guys, this is your thing. I’m happy to rent the place out to you but I don’t need to be a partner or anything.”

The two stared at him for a time before slowly nodding their heads.

“Alright, Harry, we’ll do it your way,” Fred said.

“But we’re leaving the option on the table for anytime that you change your mind,” George added.

“Deal,” Harry said, placed his now empty bottle on the counter behind him and shook their hands.

-oOoOo-

It had been days since Nagini had been seen. Questioning of each of his Death Eaters had produced no results and Lord Voldemort was growing … concerned. It was unlike his familiar to be absent for such an extended period of time. Of course, she had been known to go about her own business, seeking prey where she would, but never before had she been from her master’s side for so long. Not even the _special_ connection that they shared had managed to bring her back.

Of even more concern was the fact that the last time anyone had remembered seeing Nagini had been the evening when Potter had been in the castle and the students had been taken.

A ball of eerie green light hovered before Lord Voldemort as he strode through the hidden passageways inside the very walls of the ancient castle. He was just glad that he’d decided to go alone – he would have been forced to kill anyone who’d accompanied him long before now, having them see the most powerful Dark Lord in memory slip on the mould and slime to land on his backside not once but _twice_ would have meant their instant death.

The further that Voldmort walked, the more he wondered why he’d never bothered to explore the tunnels leading from the Chamber of Secrets when he was a student here. But then, having found the Chamber and the basilisk within, he had been content with that at the time. He had his connection to the great Salazar Slytherin confirmed and the most dangerous beast in the British Isles willing to do his very bidding.

The death of the girl back in his sixth year had also meant that it wasn’t safe to go back into the Chamber without it and his pet being discovered by the insufferable, long-nosed meddler, thus another reason for his not exploring down here.

These passageways, though, were incredibly useful. He’d already discovered a number of exits back into the school which would allow him to travel from one part to another without anyone being the wiser as to how he did it. He was still undecided whether he should have Wormtail include them on that map that he was creating.

A deep shadow being cast by his green light interrupted Voldemort’s musing and he pulled his wand from his robes.

Without a hint of fear, Lord Voldemort continued his pace uninterrupted. As the object that had first caught his attention came into the light, he stopped, staring in disbelief.

On the cold, hard passageway floor rested the severed head of his Nagini. Her eyes were clouded in death and her fangs were bared as though still ready to attack. Tearing his eyes from the sight, he looked further down the passageway to see the rest of her body, separated by a dozen feet or so.

Throwing his head back, Voldemort roared his rage. Whoever had done this would pay! He would make sure of that. They’d wish that they’d never been born by the time that he was done torturing them and even then, he’d leave them alive, to heal so that he could do it all over again. And again. And again.

First, though, first he needed to check the remainder of his horcruxes and make sure that they were still safe.

-oOoOo-

“Madam Bones! Madam Bones!”

Amelia, Croaker, Sirius and Tonks spun at the call, all pulling their wands as they did so. The young man who was racing towards them, dodging people as he came, saw them and his eyes widened in shock and surprise. The man’s hands went up to show that, while one wasn’t empty, the box he was carrying definitely wasn’t a wand and his other hand was empty, even as he skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over on the uneven cobblestones.

“What’s so urgent, lad?” Sirius asked.

“The wireless,” the man panted. “The Minister’s got some big announcement in a couple of minutes. Thought you’d want to hear.”

“That would be good. Thank you,” Amelia said. “I take it that’s your wireless?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Put it here,” Croaker said, conjuring a stand in the middle of the street for it.

The man did so and quickly turned it on and tuned it to the Wireless Wizarding Network.

“Thanks …” Tonks said.

“Applebom. Gareth Applebom,” the man replied, introducing himself.

A slight crackle caught everyone’s attention and had the crowd that had been milling about shuffling forward to hear better.

_“We now take you to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic,”_ the announcer stated in a deep bass voice _. “On the stage here we have Minister for Magic Delores Umbridge. Flanking her are Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Gawain Robards and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Pius Thicknese. The next voice that you hear will be that of Minister Umbridge who brings us an important announcement.”_

_“Hem hem. Good morning, my fellow witches and wizards of Great Britain_ ,” Umbridge’s high, simpering voice began. _“It is with a heavy heart that I come before you this morning, bearing news that has changed our very world._

_“Hem hem. Overnight, a group of misguided and misinformed people stormed our beloved Diagon Alley, killing and destroying valuable property without care or thought. These people were under the impression that doing so would make our world safer than it already is.”_

A tsking sound came across the wireless and those who had met the pink-cardigan wearing woman easily pictured her shaking her head.

_“These witches and wizards believe, erroneously I might add, that the children that are staying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were no longer there, having been ‘rescued’ from their education where they have remained safe and being well-taught all that they need to know in order to become productive and valued members of our society._

_“They believed that rebelling, killing and destroying the property of others as they went, against the benevolent rule of our Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was best for all. It is not. Under our new administration, crime has diminished ten-fold and our government is the most stable that it has been for decades._

_“The Undesirables that remain on the island at what was once known as Diricawl School are spreading their lies and enticing otherwise good, upright citizens from the correct path._

_“To this end, an emergency sitting of the Wizengamot was called, a meeting that I have just come from. During this emergency session, we, your leaders of government, have, with the blessing of the Dark Lord, passed a number of decrees that are designed to make our world safer._

_“Hem hem,”_ Umbridge said as the sound of parchment was rattled.

_“Firstly, in response to the actions of the misguided few storming, killing and destroying the shops and inhabitants of Diagon Alley, the Wizengamot has declared that, for the foreseeable future, our society is to be placed under strict martial law. Our fine, upstanding aurors will now enforce a curfew on all magical places – Hogsmeade, Knockturn Alley, Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and even here in the Ministry of Magic._

_“All citizens must return to their registered house of residence before dusk and remain there until dawn. Any witch or wizard found to be not in their registered place of residence by our aurors will be arrested immediately. This curfew will extend to Diagon Alley as well as soon as the misguided few there have been arrested and the Alley returned to the control and use for all of magical Britain._

_“Secondly, Educational Decree Number Forty-eight has been passed which states that all school results, including OWL and NEWT results will no longer be owled to individual students. In order for any student to receive their results, it is now a requirement that they present themselves to the Department of Magical Education here within the very walls of the Ministry of Magic and prove their identity._

_“For those students at Hogwarts, they will be brought here to the Ministry over the next few days in order to receive their results before being returned to the castle._

_“Lastly, the Wizengamot this morning, passed the Muggleborn Registration Act. This new law requires that all members of our society who were born to_ muggles _,”_ and the disdain in Umbridge’s voice at that word was clear for all to hear, _“are to present themselves to the Ministry of Magic within three days to register themselves and to present their wands for registration and checking. Any muggleborn failing to present themselves within these hallowed halls within three days will find themselves, at the very least, arrested and tried._

_“The Wizengamot has stated that, if these measures fail to see order restored to our beloved society, more severe punishments can and will be meted out._

_“Thank you for your time.”_


	20. Chapter 20

Griselda Marchbanks frowned at what she was hearing. Standing in a small alcove, not far from the entrance to the Department of Magical Education, she watched and listened.

On the far side of the Atrium, the Minister for Magic, Delores Umbridge – and _there_ were two words that should never go together in the same sentence as far as Griselda was concerned – was standing on a small platform. Behind her stood two of the more important people in the Ministry, or at least, two people who currently held two of the most important jobs in the Ministry. And in front of the stage stood a small crowd, mostly made up of Ministry employees, with one or two journalists near the front.

A special, short, black wand with a length of cord that trailed to a small box on the ground between one of the journalists’ feet was being held near Umbridge’s mouth, telling Griselda that the toad’s speech was being broadcast over the Wizarding Wireless Network for everyone to hear.

The lines on Griselda’s face deepened as Umbridge outlined the strict curfew guidelines. The fact that the woman had just banned people from visiting friends or even relatives after dark, basically outlawing parties and the like, didn’t seem to faze her.  Griselda expected that there’d be a backlash from that at least – people weren’t going to like having their freedoms curtailed like that.

Those deep lines became like crevasses when Griselda heard the new Educational Decree. She glowered across the distance at the _Minister_. To put such a law in place without even talking to the Department that it concerned really stuck in her teeth. And Griselda knew why – there was no way that she would have agreed to it.

Of course, the _reasoning_ was easy to deduce: Harry Potter and a large number of his friends at Diricawl Academy had just completed their OWLs. And without their OWL results, they couldn’t determine what they were eligible for studying in their NEWT years. Force them to come to the Ministry to collect said results and it meant that the Ministry got a free pass at ‘Undesirable Number One’ and a host of others.

And they’d decided to use _her_ Department to do it! Well, not on her watch!

Griselda paused only just long enough of hear the gist of Umbridge’s so-called ‘Muggleborn Registration Act’ before turning and storming back to her department, as fast as a one hundred and thirty-eight year old woman with a cane could hobble.

She’d only stayed here in the Ministry for the sake of the students. No, it was time to relocate. Her _and_ her entire Department.

-oOoOo-

Lord Voldemort scowled at the patch of bare, blackened ground in front of him. There was no evidence that there once had been a hut, more a shack really, standing on this spot. Indeed, the forest that had surrounded the hut had been obliterated for nearly a mile in every direction. Not a leaf, twig, animal or even a stump could be seen. The entire landscape was now barren and eerily silent

There was only one thing that could cause this type of damage: fiendfyre.

Fiendfyre, one of the few methods of destroying a horcrux.

Lord Voldemort seriously doubted that Potter would have had the power or knowledge to cast such a spell. The boy’s injuries proved that he’d been here, though, just as he was in the same place as the once-again-lost diadem and potentially even where Nagini had been killed. Obviously, Voldemort’s traps had been good to cause those sorts of injuries, just not good enough. He hoped that whoever _had_ cast that spell had met their doom here.

Lord Voldemort was not happy. With his grandfather’s ring now all but certainly destroyed, that made potentially four of his horcruxes found and destroyed. The diary being added to the list through Lucius’ incompetence some years back.

All that remained now were the locket, which none should be able to find, and the cup, secreted in Bellatrix’s vault where none could get at it, especially now with Gringotts closed and the goblins gone to ground. Idly, he wondered if he should push up his timetable and force the goblins to their knees before taking everything that they owned, if only to ensure that the cup indeed remained secure.

For now, he had one last stop to make – the cave with the locket. Just to make sure.

Turning on the spot, Voldemort disappeared with barely a sound.

-oOoOo-

The group that portkeyed back to Diricawl was only just over half the size of the one that had portkeyed out some hours before. Four of their number had died in the battle to win back Diagon Alley; their bodies would be brought back separately later for the families of the men to decide what was appropriate for them. Another half dozen had decided to stay behind to help defend the Alley from any potential attack.

That was an interesting point to consider: where would the retaliation come from?

Over forty Death Eaters had either been killed or taken captive in the battle. Over forty that had just been denied to Riddle. He wasn’t going to take that lightly, not a loss of that magnitude. Surely, they’d put a, if not serious, at least _modest_ , dent in his ranks.

All knew that they’d been damned lucky to win the battle. Only the fact that they’d caught the DEs with their potion off the fire had let them get the upper hand so quickly and decisively.

The most likely scenario that Amelia, Croaker and Sirius could come up with was the fact that Riddle would have the Ministry do his work for him, sending in aurors and other Ministry personnel to attack the defenders of Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was actually a defensible hole right now. The one entrance was well guarded. But they were guarding an all but deserted shopping district, a place that, while held warmly in the hearts of all in magical Britain, really held no strategic value.

Thus, why Amelia and Croaker had led their group out of the Alley to portkey back to the island from the muggle side of the _Leaky Cauldron_.

“All quiet here, Chert?” Sirius asked the security goblin.

Chert grinned back, baring his sharp, pointed teeth.

“When is this place ever quiet?” he asked. “If you must know, we had a group arrive not fifteen minutes before you did.”

“Who?” Harry asked authoritatively, stepping forward with a lean on his staff.

“A witch and three wizards from the Ministry of Magic,” Chert replied.

“Who?” Harry asked again.

“Have no fear,” Chert said, holding up one long-fingered hand. “Headmistress McGonagall herself vouched for them before taking them up to the school. They say that they’re the entire Department of Magical Education, including the Wizarding Education Authority.”

“Really?” Amelia asked. “Griselda brought her entire department here?”

“I’d say that she didn’t like the idea of her Department being used the way Umbridge wants to,” Croaker speculated.

“Guess that means that we won’t have to go the Ministry to get our results,” Harry commented. “Hermione’s going to be bugging them something fierce.”

-oOoOo-

Alongside the others, Harry trooped in through the doors of the school.

The walk up from the Security Office seemed longer then usual. His left arm was throbbing with pain, telling him that the pain potion had worn off. Disconcertingly, it felt as though he had pins and needles in the fingers of his left hand. Glancing at the stump confirmed that the missing forearm, hand and fingers hadn’t gown back, much to his regret.

He was also leaning heavily on his staff, a lot more than earlier in the day. When he’d first gotten out of the hospital bed, he’d thought that the injury to his thigh was only minor and wouldn’t take much to get his leg back in full working order. Now, he realised that it was going to take a _little_ longer than that; he was still determined to get it up to full strength as quickly as possible, of course.

The instant that the group appeared, so too did Healer Jeffries and Madam Pomfrey.

“Have you finished your shenanigans yet?” Healer Jeffries asked as her wand began waving over him.

To the side, those few who were still injured from the battle were being seen to by Madam Pomfrey. Amelia, Croaker, Sirius and Remus had all headed straight into the Dining Room where a quick glance showed Harry four new faces, two of which he was familiar with from his OWL exams, not to mention when Diricawl was first incorporated as a school.

“I want you back in one of my beds,” Healer Jeffries stated flatly, drawing Harry’s attention back to her. “You _aren’t_ entirely healed yet and I want to check what damage your activities this morning have done.”

Harry was about to protest, but seeing the group of people with a combination of worried and exasperated, with just a dash of annoyance, heading his way had his jaw snapping shut. Mutely, he nodded his head, evaded the hand that was heading towards his arm to guide him and began to hobble towards the Hospital Wing.

“I’m so glad you’re back and safe,” Hermione near-cried, coming at him slowly to give him a hug and kiss without knocking him over.

“I’m fine. Not a scratch,” he protested.

“This time,” Mike snorted.

Petunia bustled up to Harry’s free side, opposite the one that Hermione had claimed and gently patted him on his back.

“You gave us quite the fright,” she admonished. “We may not have had the best of relationships in the past, but I _do_ care for you, Harry.”

“I know, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said with the smallest of smiles.

“Thought you were supposed to be quick,” Dudley commented. “Least you could always dodge me pretty easily.”

Harry eyed his cousin. “I’m still quicker than you.”

Dudley eyed him up and down. “We’ll see.”

An unexpected and surprising warmth bubbled up into Harry’s chest. Dudley was actually treating him normally. The only one who had so far. Not even Hermione had treated him like that.

The group surrounded Harry, making sure that he made it all the way to the bed that he’d been occupying for the past few days and getting him to lie down.

“Pain relief. Muscle relaxer. Anti-inflammatory,” Healer Jeffries stated, handing him each potion vial, one after the other for him to drink before adding a jar of thick orange cream. “Scar removal cream. It won’t get rid of it completely, it’s far too deep for that, but it should help reduce the severity. Twice a day, morning and night, for the next three weeks.”

Obediently, Harry sculled each potion, doing his very best not to taste any of them. Once he had done so, Healer Jeffries gave a contented nod and bustled away to see to the other injured.

-oOoOo-

Diagon Alley was just beginning to darken, meaning that, with the tall muggle buildings nearby, sunset was less than two hours away, when the magical archway leading from _The Leaky Cauldron_ shifted about on itself, opening to allow passage between the two famous places.

“Show yourself!” Shaklebolt ordered.

A nervous middle-aged woman, her hands held high above her and three little ones with their fists wrapped in her robes, shuffled forward. Her eyes widened at the sight of the long twin walls that now stretched from the entrance before her. Above the walls, fortified platforms had been built where the Defenders of Diagon Alley could stand, protected from view while at the same time being able to cast down into the box below. A ‘T’ junction was set up at the end of the fifteen metre long walled space with two small rooms at the end of each ‘arm’.

“I don’t mean any harm,” the woman called. “I just need somewhere for me and the little ones to be safe.”

“Roll up your sleeves and walk slowly to the end and turn right,” Shaklebolt ordered.

Hastily, the woman complied, pushing the sleeves of her robes up, showing their bare, pale skin before bending down and doing the same for her little ones. With her arms out before her for all to see, she hesitatingly walked along the walled passage.

“Please. I’m a muggleborn. I don’t want to be arrested or taken to the Ministry,” she said.

Shaklebolt shared a look with his partner, Tonks, who simply shrugged back at him.

As the small family passed far enough away, the magical archway disappeared, the bricks sliding back into place to form a perfectly ordinary wall.

“I’m not surprised; I expected at least a couple to turn up here,” Tonks commented after they’d watched the woman walk into the small make-shift room where her arms were scanned for concealing magic before she’d be allowed into the Alley proper.

“No,” Shaklebolt agreed. “Those new laws of Umbridge’s are going to have a lot of people panicking and right now, the only place people can go where they can get the support of others is Diricawl and here.”

“You think we’re going to get many more like her?” Tonks clarified.

“I do,” Shaklebolt nodded solemnly. “Possibly, a lot.”

-oOoOo-

Shaklebolt’s prediction was truer than even he believed was possible.

Before the day was done, when the sun was set and the new curfew fell into effect, more and more people showed up at the entrance to Diagon Alley. Most surprisingly of all, was the fact that not one was a Ministry auror come to arrest them nor someone sporting a Dark Mark.

The first to arrive had been the witch and her three young children. Not long after that, a family of three arrived, father, mother and pre-Hogwarts’ age son. They had escaped an attack on their home several weeks prior simply because they’d left to visit family half an hour before the Death Eaters had turned up to attack. Their house had been burnt to the ground and they’d been staying with the wife’s family ever since, something that was no longer an option with the new curfew rules.

Before that family had even finished being checked for the Dark Mark, the arch opened again. And then again. For the next hour, the magical arch leading from _The Leaky Cauldron_ could have been a muggle revolving door with how often that it was opening and closing.

As dusk approached, the number of refugees, most muggleborn, some who simply disagreed with the stance the Ministry had taken, many who had seen hope rekindle by the taking of Diagon Alley from the Death Eaters, poured in.

When night finally fell, the walls of the new security passageway were mounted with extra volunteers, all fearing the retaliation from the Ministry aurors or the Death Eaters to occur sometime during the night. And while the archway continued to open for newcomers, the identity of those people wasn’t what was expected. Instead, more and more witches and wizards arrived, risking the curfew to move somewhere they believed was safer than their own homes.

In many cases, these were people from Hogsmeade, scared for their very lives at the extreme closeness of the Death Eaters who roamed the streets at all hours of the night, looking for ‘excitement’. There were even a small number of now ex-Ministry workers who had abandoned their jobs that very afternoon.

-oOoOo-

Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, or at least what was left of it after what must have been half a dozen _reductos_ directed into it, was filled to capacity with bodies. In fact, the store had never seen so many people in it at one time. What few chairs remained were filled, others had been transfigured or conjured for use. Witches and wizards lined the walls and there was even a crowd bunched together out on the cobblestones, all doing their best to peer in and to hear what was being said.

“This isn’t right!” one man stated angrily from where he stood near the counter that once had held the numerous flavours of ice-cream. “We shouldn’t be cowering here. We should be in our own homes, safe knowing that the aurors will protect us, not afraid that they’re going to storm in at any moment and drag us away.”

“Those new laws are ridiculous!” another agreed. “They’re designed to favour the pureblood elite, just like every other one. Us muggleborns don’t get a look in.”

“It’s never been any different,” an old man said after struggling to his feet. At the start of a protest, he held up his hands. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, all I’m saying is that the laws always favour the pureblood rich.”

“But there’s more of us muggleborns and half-bloods now and more and more as each year passes. Why should they get to make the laws that only favour them?” a wizard with a long black beard with twin streaks of grey growing in it asked.

“You saw what we could do when we worked together! We took this Alley back in one night and made it safe, even blocking off Knockturn,” a voice called from the back.

“Lot of good that did!” a voice snorted derisively. “Took the Death Eaters less than half an hour to take it back and to then start killing us.”

“Potter came, though. The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again came. He stood up to them, him and his friends. They rescued us,” a young woman stated as she jiggled her baby on her lap.

“Did you see him, though?” a voice said quietly. “That scar on his face and half his arm missing.”

“He was limping, too,” another added.

“Didn’t stop him taking down those Death Eaters,” a young male voice called strongly. “He said he knew he was needed, and he came, injured and all. And if he can do that, what can’t he do?”

“He’s The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again,” three voices called simultaneously as though that answered the question.

“The Chosen One,” another agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, we took the Alley,” an older man said derisively, pushing himself forward through the crowd. “So, what? A street full of broken shops with wares in tatters and no gold to buy or sell anything anyway. Fat lot of good it’s done us. Why do you think no one’s come to turf us out of here yet? It’s because we’ve bottled ourselves in here, _imprisoned ourselves_! There’s but one way in and as long as we stay in here, we can’t do any more harm to them.”

“To who? The Ministry? _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_? We’re nobodies, we can’t take them on,” a man across the room challenged.

“Who says we can’t?” that same older man countered. “We took this place. Why can’t we take back the Ministry?”

“At the very least if we were in charge, we could make laws that made sense, that benefitted everyone,” a voice agreed.

“Us? By ourselves? We’re no match for the Ministry,’ an older woman stated with a shake of her head.

“Why not? We all have wands, don’t we? Same as them. We all know our spells, hexes and curses. Just the same as them,” a middle-aged wizard stated.

“There’s enough of us here to do some serious damage,” an excited young man exclaimed. “How many are going to be at the Ministry tonight? We hit them the same as we hit the Alley last night. We take it and hold it and the country’s ours.”

“It’s not quite as easy as that,” a younger red-headed man said. “I worked in the Ministry until today. I believed in everything that the Ministry was doing. But those new laws, how can they help people, how can the regular witches and wizards live their lives under such laws? No, attacking the Ministry would be near impossible. They control the Floos, portkeys, they have the aurors, the hit wizards and what’s left of the Unspeakables. They run everything. Not to mention You-Know-Who’s Death Eaters are often there as well.”

“Then we’ll take it from them!” a grizzled man stated fiercely.

“We can’t do it by ourselves. It’s impossible, there’s simply not enough of us, not even if we took everyone and abandoned the Alley to attack the Ministry,” that same red-haired young man argued.

“Then we abandon the Alley. We already said that all it is is our prison. We go in force and take back our Ministry, we take back our country!” the man with the black and grey beard exclaimed.

“And if it’s extra people that we need, extra fighters, well, didn’t we already hear those very words today? ‘When I heard what was happening did you really expect me to stay home and do nothing?’ That’s what he said. And if he comes, the rest of them come too. And with them, how can we lose?” the question was asked.

“How are we going to get the message to Diricawl?” a middle-aged witch with fire in her eyes asked.

“My Floo still works, once I turn it back on, that is,” a wizard with an apron around his middle said excitedly. “Some of us could Floo there and tell them what we’ve got planned?”

“Right. Jonas, Peter, Edward and Dilly, you four come with me to Eli’s Floo, the rest of you prepare yourself for the fight of your lives. Tonight, we take back our Ministry!” the bearded wizard finished with a shout, a shout that turned into a great roar when he was joined by the crowd, their arms raised and fists pumping the air.


	21. Chapter 21

The sound of the siren combined with the pulsing light woke Chert from a sound sleep. The instant that his eyes snapped open, though, he was alert. His hand closed around the handle of his axe as he swung himself from his rock ledge like bed. A brace of knives were plucked from their place on the hidden shelf and stowed behind his back.

Then, grumbling all the way, he made his way to the main section of the Security Office. Seeing it empty, just as he would have expected for this time of night, he instead crossed to the viewing portal into the Receiving Room.

A stream of gobbledegook expletives rushed from his mouth at the sight of the four wizards and one witch milling about inside. How they’d arrived, by Floo, apparition or portkey, was irrelevant, they weren’t going anywhere without his say-so. The fact that they were there at all told him that none bore the Dark Mark, not that that was an indication of anything, beliefs were ingrained much deeper than a tattoo, existent or not, could show.

“What do you want?” he practically growled into the stone that allowed his voice to travel into the room.

As expected, the five started at the suddenness of it and Chert grinned at the small payback for them waking him.

“We’re here to see Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again. Him and Madam Bones and the Unspeakable and Black,” an older man with a beard that was verging on becoming impressive stated.

_Of course they were_ , Chert grumbled to himself.

Bad enough that those four went off with a host of others into battle leaving him behind on the island, but now they were interrupting his sleep. The fact that they had nothing to do with the timing of these arrivals didn’t placate Chert in the slightest.

“They’re asleep,” he grunted.

“It’s urgent,” the wizard countered.

“Isn’t it always?” Chert retorted rhetorically. “Wait there. I’ll see if they want to come down to talk to you.”

While he knew that he could easily make the trip up to the school and would love nothing more than to hammer on each of their doors with the butt of his knife to wake _them_ up, Chert knew that he couldn’t leave the building and hence the island undefended with unknowns inside, no matter that they were perfectly contained.

“Dobby,” he called instead.

Almost instantly, the house elf appeared in front of him, annoyingly looking as though he hadn’t been woken at all.

“We’ve got company,” Chert stated, cocking a thumb over his shoulder at the Receiving Room. “They want to talk to Potter, Bones, Black and Croaker. Wake them and get them down here.”

With a nod of his head, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared.

-oOoOo-

“They’re from Diagon Alley,” Croaker stated. “I recognise them from this morning.”

The fact that the Unspeakable had said that with his back to the others as they entered the Security Office told the story of just how good his hearing was.

“Any guesses what they want?” Amelia asked as she moved to stand beside Croaker, unconsciously mirroring his stance of folded arms as they looked in on the group.

Behind them, a tired-looking Sirius and Harry were all but leaning against each other.

“This better be important,” Sirius stated.

“Only one way to find out,” Croaker replied.

A short step to the side saw him open the door and walk in to the Receiving Room, the other three on his heels.

At their entrance, the two men and the woman sitting on the provided couches rose, while the other two men stopped their pacing, turned and looked expectantly at them.

“What can we do for you, Mister …?” Amelia asked.

“Call me Arn,” the big, middle-aged man sporting the bushy black beard with the twin grey stripes in it replied. “This here’s Jonas, Peter, Edward and Dilly.”

“Very well, Arn,” Amelia said after nodding to each of the others. “What is it we can do for you?”

“We thought that you’d want to know that we’re taking back the Ministry tonight,” Arn stated with a satisfied look on his face.

Sirius couldn’t help but snort. “You seriously expect to be able to take and hold the Ministry? Didn’t what happened in Diagon teach you lot anything?”

“We learnt plenty,” Arn scowled back. “We took the Alley easily. Got up the right charms to stop them coming when we didn’t want them. It was only that we hadn’t prepared the rest of our defences properly.”

“And you think you can do that with a building instead of an Alley with only a single entrance?” Croaker asked and whatever feelings he had on the matter were carefully kept out of his voice.

“We know what we’re doing,” Arn stated. “We know now how to defend it once we’ve taken it. Especially with the Floo network under our control.”

“Do you understand the type of forces that you’re planning on going up against?” Amelia asked. “Specially trained aurors, hitwizards and Unspeakables to begin with. Even attempting something in the dead of night will be nigh impossible to achieve.”

“By ourselves, you’re probably right,” Arn stated.

“You want us to go with you, don’t you?” Harry asked, speaking up for the first time from where he leant against the wall.

“Yeah, we do,” Arn replied.

“With The-Boy-Who-Lived-Again with us, they wouldn’t stand a chance,” Tilly said. “We all saw what you did for us this morning. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all have been killed.”

Harry shook his head.

“All I did was provide the distraction,” he said. “It was the others that did the most.”

“You still took out their leader quite handily, not to mention a handful of others,” Peter disagreed.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time,” Arn said, drawing the eyes of all back to him. “We’re doing this with or without you. Tonight. We’d prefer to have your help, much more likely to win that way, but we are doing this. We’re not going to stay imprisoned in the Alley while _they’re_ making the laws that affect us.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Amelia stated. “You have no idea what you’re going up against.”

“Not to mention the fact that the people that work there know that place a thousand times better than you,” Croaker added.

Arn shook his head.

“Let’s go,” he said to his friends. “We’ve told them what we’re doing, now it’s up to them.”

The five moved to the Floo and Arn looked back as, one by one, the others stepped into the green flames.

“I hope we see you at the Ministry one hour from now,” he said before he, too, Floo-ed away.

-oOoOo-

“We can’t let them go alone!’ Harry stated, emphasising his point by stomping forward with his staff. “You said it yourself, they’ve got no idea what they’ll be walking into. It’ll be a slaughter!”

“You’re right about that, Pup,” Sirius sighed. “The question is, for who?”

Harry looked confusingly at his godfather. “What do you mean?”

“A mob can do a lot of damage, especially against an opponent limited in numbers and with surprise on their side. On the other hand, the idiots still at the Ministry are going to use a lot more lethal spells and will kill a lot of that mob before they go down,” Sirius replied.

“That’s assuming they don’t use their knowledge of the building to their advantage and wage a guerrilla war until help arrives,” Croaker added. “If that lot don’t have the Floo Regulation Department as their first target and the DMLE as their second, they’ll be dead before dawn, whether they take the rest of the building or not.”

Harry stared between the three of them. Finally, his face hardened and he moved to step between them.

“Wait up, Pup,” Sirius said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We know when the attack’s going to take place, that gives us an hour to prepare.”

“We’re going to help?” Harry asked.

“We have no choice,” Amelia replied. “We can’t let them go off and kill themselves like that. And if there’s a chance of taking back the Ministry, we have to join in. Can you imagine the blow it’ll be against Riddle?”

“We’ve got less than an hour,” Croaker stated. “We better wake up some people and get prepared.”

-oOoOo-

The group gathered outside the thick wooden door was much the same as the one that had portkeyed away from Diricawl in order to go to Diagon Alley. The only difference was the loss of not only the four who had died, but also a further two who were still in the Hospital Wing back on the island.

“This is a little used entrance to the Ministry,” Amelia explained. “It’s usually only used by aurors bringing in prisoners from the muggle side. There’s an alert charm that alerts the aurors when it’s opened; nothing that I can do about it as it’s tied to the other side of the door. That means we’re most likely to encounter aurors first. Be prepared to fight as soon as we go in.”

“We’re behind schedule, Am; if that lot from Diagon got their act together and attacked when they said they were going to, they should have gone in nearly five minutes ago,” Croaker stated.

With a nod, Amelia flicked her wand at the door, tapping it in half a dozen specific places. On the last tap, the sound of a lock disengaging could be heard. In one swift movement, Amelia opened the door and strode forward, immediately stepping to the right, her wand up and providing cover if needed.

The fact that there were no shouts, no sounds of running footsteps towards them, no sign of life at all, had the invaders pausing.

“The attack’s obviously started,” Sirius said quietly.

Amelia nodded. “Shack, take your team to the auror department; get it locked down. Algeron, take your team and secure the Floo Regulation department.”

At her words, the two teams of half a dozen each split off, quietly moving down the corridor. A dozen meters down, Croaker paused, opened a hidden door and led his team into the hidden stairwell to avoid using the elevators.

As soon as they were gone, Amelia eyed her own team.

“Right, let’s get to the Atrium; that’s where the fighting’s going to be,” she said, her voice as hard as diamond.

-oOoOo-

The internal stairs were dark and filled with shadows with only a single lit torch at each landing. There were four of these throughout the building that housed the Ministry of Magic, one in each corner. Very few even knew that they existed, preferring to travel about where they could be seen doing ‘important’ work either to those above them in the hopes of being recognised or to those below them in order to feel superior.

The one group that did remember these stairwells and utilize them often were the Unspeakables. A department that revelled in the shadows, in getting the work and research done that the general population was best left ignorant of, loved being able to seemingly appear and disappear at will, something that these stairwells allowed them to do.

It took very little time for Croaker to lead his team of five to the correct level and, as he’d predicted, they’d encountered no one. When all had gathered either on the landing with him or were only a step or two away, he paused and looked back.

“We’re in luck,” he said. “The Department for the Regulation of Floo Control is in this part of the building. Once we go through here, it’s down a short corridor and to the left.

“Our primary objective is the bank of four fireplaces on the back wall. Between the centre two, there is a large lever. That is the master override for the Floo system. It will be in a centre position. We need to pull that lever _down_ and then hold a wand against it, saying ‘Emergency Override and Shut Down’. That will take the entire Floo system throughout the country off-line. It’s quick and nasty, but it suits our purpose right now. We can worry about restoring it later.

“Anyone who tries to stop us, take them down hard. We _cannot_ allow them to call for reinforcements. Everyone clear?”

Receiving nods, Croaker turned about and pushed the door open, swinging his wand quickly each way. Seeing the corridor empty, he cautiously moved out, waving his hand for the others to follow him.

Their luck remained with them as, after flattening himself against the wall and conjuring a small handheld mirror, Croaker saw that they were alone. The entrance to the Department was completely empty; there wasn’t even someone manning the desk at the front. In all likelihood, he decided, they’d been called to fight down in the Atrium.

Cautiously, Croaker led the way around the corner and into the Department. A more complete look had him nodding in relief.

“Looks like we’re in luck,” he said, “it seems that we’ve got the place to – ”

-oOoOo-

“I count three,” Tonks whispered from where she lay flat on the ground, her head disillusioned and only the very top of it up to her eyes looking around the corner.

“Four,” Shaklebolt corrected. “There’s one more just coming from the restroom.”

Shuffling back, Tonks quietly stood up, being sure that no one from the Auror department was given even an inkling that there was a small group of people waiting just down the corridor and around the corner from the entrance to the Department.

“I’ve got an idea,” Tonks said after cancelling the disillusionment and then closing her eyes and concentrating.

Her features morphed into a much older looking woman with a square jaw and close-cropped dark hair. Her chest expanded and her arms and legs became thicker. As soon as she was done, Tonks twirled her wand at her dark, formfitting clothing, transfiguring it into a set of red auror robes.

“Be ready,” she hissed to the rest of them.

Then, after taking in a dozen or so short, sharp breaths to get her lungs working and to make it appear that she’d just run all the way from the Atrium, Tonks took off.

Bursting around the corner at speed, she nearly slammed into the opposite wall before pelting straight at the Auror department. Her pounding feet announced her presence and the four junior-grade aurors were up on their feet, their wands trained on her as she panted to a stop. Tonks was impressed, only one of the four wands was trembling slightly.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” she barked at the four. “Get out here! We need reinforcements down in the Atrium and you’re it.”

“But our orders were to stay here,” one of the aurors countered.

“Yeah and I’m changing those orders. Now!” she shouted. “Let’s go!”

The four took off and as soon as they were close enough, Tonks spun about and raced back down the corridor. Rounding the corner, she twisted, throwing herself against the far wall, avoiding the wands raised, pointed straight at her.

The four aurors following her weren’t so lucky, running straight into a hail of red stunners. All four were unconscious before the first had even hit the ground.

“Good work, Tonks,” Shaklebolt nodded. “Right, let’s get this lot down to one of the interview rooms for now; they’re closest. Make sure to strip them of their wands and any portkeys and lock them in. Tonks, you’re with me, we need to raise the Ministry’s emergency anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards.”

-oOoOo-

Sirius, Amelia and Harry were hunkered down on some stairs, taking in the scene before them.

The Atrium was a true battleground. Spells of every colour crisscrossed between the two opposing forces. Stunners; bone breakers; crucios; disarming hexes; killing curses; bombarda; cutting curses; banishing charms – all were flying about.

The Atrium itself seemed to have taken the bulk of the destruction so far: the security desk was nothing but a pile of smouldering sticks, chunks of marble had been blown out of pillars, the Statue of Magical Brethren was nothing but a collection of stone and rubble with the odd arm or head lying about, and black burn marks were appearing every other second on the floors and walls.

The attacking mob, originally from Diagon Alley, seemed to have made little headway so far. From their position, it appeared as though they’d probably Floo-ed in, although it was possible that some had used what was left of the old red telephone box, a device that wouldn’t ever be making a return journey to the surface given it was currently missing its top third section.

They’d obviously been given just enough time to prepare some defences before the defenders arrived as the Diagon mob were hunkered down behind a half dozen or so stone walls, walls that were slowly being blown away by the defenders.

The Ministry personnel had used the Atrium’s natural environment for their own cover, an easy prospect considering where they were coming from. Instead of the empty patch of space in front of the Floos, the opposite end of the Atrium was littered with pillars and doorways and statues, all of which the defenders were putting to good use.

“There’s no way we can get to them,” Sirius stated, indicating the group near the Floos.

“That was never going to be an option,” Amelia replied. “But whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it quickly; those walls aren’t going to be much good for anything in a couple more minutes.”

“We need a distraction,” Sirius stated.

With a nod, Harry went to work. Rising slightly to give himself a better line of sight, he focussed on whatever loose pieces of stone and marble that lay about.

“What are you doing?” Sirius hissed as Harry transfigured a chunk of stone into a bobcat.

“Creating a distraction,” Harry replied. “It worked against Voldemort, it can work here, too.”

After glancing at Sirius, Amelia looked at those behind her.

“You heard Harry; create a distraction,” she said. “Transfigure whatever’s lying about into some animals.”

As more and more animals began to appear – wolves, rats, cats, dogs, lions, even a flock of canaries – Harry noticed that their work was beginning to draw the eye of the Ministry personnel.

Switching his focus, Harry directed his staff at the small flecks of stone and the dust.

“ _Turbinis vasti!_ ” he intoned, moving the end of his staff in smaller and smaller circles.

Instantly, a breeze kicked up the dust, lifting the smaller bits of stone into the air. As Harry’s staff drew smaller and faster circles, the wind picked up speed and intensity until the robes of any in its path began flapping. And then all of the loose dust and bit and pieces began flying, rocketing about, leaving stinging welts as they struck exposed hands and faces.

“Come on, Sirius!” Harry exclaimed. “We need to catch them in a crossfire.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Bring my staff,” Harry ordered before dropping it and concentrating.

Within seconds, Tavi was standing in Harry’s place. And immediately overbalanced and fell onto his left shoulder.

Righting himself, Tavi stared at his missing left paw. A shake of his fuzzy head had him relegating that fact to the back of his mind to process later. Awkwardly, Tavi climbed the stairs and skittered across the marble floor. Every other step, he misjudged it, imagining he had four paws and went skidding, burning his snout on the ground. Gritting his jaw, though, Tavi soldiered on, joining in with the other animals to race around the floor.

Tavi was forced to dodge back and forth, leaping over obstacles when he could and using the reflexes that a mongoose was known for to dodge incoming spells. The further he ran, the more he began getting used to the concept of moving on only three legs until, by the time that he’d reached the cover that he was aiming for, he’d managed to run a full dozen metres without tripping.

Slinking into the small space, Tavi twisted back and grinned. Leaping over a badger, a long staff firmly grasped between his jaws, came Padfoot. Claws scrabbled on the smooth marble as he fought for purchase before he, too, slid into cover.

The two animagi reverted, Harry reaching for his staff before he’d even fully transformed.

“Don’t do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack racing out like that,” Sirius admonished.

Harry barely spared him a glance, moving his staff about so that it was more comfortable to use one-handed before firing off a cutting curse and catching the wizard he was aiming at in the shoulder, dropping him.

“Yell later; attack now,” Harry stated.

The fact that a deep yellow spell shot out from beside him told Harry that his advice had been taken.

-oOoOo-

“Looks like we’re in luck, it seems that we’ve got the place to – ”

Arthur stared in shock as a green spell shot out of nowhere, slamming into Croaker’s left shoulder and dropping him instantly as though his strings had just been cut.

His sons, though, along with Remus, instantly leapt into action. A plethora of stunning spells arced across the room, bathing the area that the spell had come from in red light. A heavy _thump_ told the room that something, or more accurately _someone_ had hit the floor.

_“Homenum revelio_ ,” Remus intoned, sweeping his wand from one side of the room to the other.

“We’re alone,” he said moments later, “well, apart from that one.”

Fred and George strode across the room, felt about on the floor for a bit before George grabbed something with his hands and ripped it back. As the invisibility cloak came off, the man flopped over, his wand clattering to the floor and rolling away.

Twin _incarcerous_ spells hit him and he was quickly bound so tight that he wouldn’t have been able to move even if he had been conscious.

Meanwhile, Remus had quickly crossed the room to the bank of Floos located at the very back and yanked the lever in the midst of them firmly _down_.

Then, holding his wand to the lever, he said in a loud, clear voice, “Emergency Override and Shut Down!”

Instantly a pulse of golden light shot from the lever into the four Floos. As soon as the light vanished, the flames went out and golden grills dropped from the ceiling, shutting them off from the fireplaces.

Unseen by them, that exact same thing – the loss of flames and the grill – was being repeated up and down the country as the entire Floo network for Great Britain was extinguished.

Including the main fireplaces in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

-oOoOo-

The combined rattling crash of over a dozen golden grills slamming into the floor in front of the Atrium’s fireplaces echoed about the vast room, drowning out the sound of spells being cast and people crying out in fright or pain.

Four of the Ministry personnel, seeing what had just happened, tried to immediately apparate out. Their spins, though, were just that, a turning on the spot, leaving them momentarily dizzy and defenceless when they failed to apparate away. Four curses took the men straight out of the fight before they could try a second time.

Two others, having seen their fellow’s failure at apparating, reached for their portkeys. They, too, failed to leave the Ministry.

It was then almost easy pickings for the attackers. The defenders realised that they were now trapped in the building. But not only trapped in the building but trapped in the Atrium through a three way cross-fire. Any movement towards an exit away from one group instantly put them in the way of other ready wands.

In short order, the battle was over. Those few Ministry personnel still alive and conscious threw down their wands, coming out with their arms above their heads.

Seeing it, along with the complete absence of spell-fire directed at them, the group that had come from Diagon Alley let loose with an excited cheer.

Amelia, though, simply walked out from her cover and looked around, shaking her head at the destruction evident and the still bodies lying throughout the Atrium.

“The battle’s only half done, people,” she called, gathering everyone’s attention on to her. “Don’t think that we got everyone. There’s bound to be people scattered all over this building. We now need to search everywhere, every level, every office, broom closet, bathroom, passageway and crawlspace.

“My teams have ensured that there’s no magical way into or out of the building, but we need to lock down every other entrance. And once that’s all done, after we’ve rounded up every person here and secured the building comes the hard part: holding it.

“No. Our job here is _far_ from done. Let’s get to it, people.”


	22. Chapter 22

Harry leant heavily on his staff, favouring his aching left leg. For the briefest of times that night, while he’d been transformed into Tavi in fact, it hadn’t hurt at all. But then, thinking about it, the injury hadn’t hurt at all during the battle, only before and, most especially, after, now that the adrenaline had worn off.

To be truthful, it wasn’t just his leg that had Harry leaning so heavily on his staff. No, he was tired, bone-weary tired. He’d barely been asleep for an hour, maybe two at tops, when Dobby had woken him the night before. Then had come the intense, full night of getting ready for a battle, the battle itself to win back the Ministry of Magic and then the hours of searching, making sure that there were no moles hidden away anywhere.

In fact, there were _still_ teams combing through the building. Up until the point when he and Sirius had been dispatched on this important task, the new owners of the Ministry of Magic building had found and detained nearly three dozen prisoners. In return, they’d found and released about half that number sitting in the Ministry’s holding cells on various trumped up charges.

“You sure this is going to work?” Harry asked.

Sirius simply shrugged, maintaining his stare at the great burnished bronze doors of Gringotts bank. The two of them had been there for just over half an hour now, waiting, trying to guess whether their presence had even been noted.

When they’d first arrived, Sirius had politely knocked and then had stepped back to stand beside Harry. After five minutes had passed, he’d stepped forward and knocked again. And once again after a further five minutes.

Sirius was just about due to knock for the eighth time when a small section of the great doors, just the right height for a goblin, swung inwards. The shadowy figure inside resolved itself into a very familiar figure as he stepped into the early morning light.

“Slipshard!” Harry greeted happily.

The wily old goblin looked Harry up and down, his eyes flicking to each wound or scar.

“You’ve gained yourself the look a goblin warrior would be proud of, Harry,” Slipshard stated before his gaze turned to Sirius. “You, however, look just as you always do.”

“Devilishly handsome and the envy of all who see me,” Sirius replied, raking a hand through his jet black hair.

Slipshard blinked at him and promptly ignored the comment altogether.

“You two are causing quite the stir inside,” Slipshard stated. “You do know that Gringotts is closed for the duration of your war, don’t you?”

“We know that you _claim_ that to be true,” Harry stated slyly. “I have a knife back in my room that says otherwise.”

Slipshard gave the barest incline of his head in acknowledgement.

“We’d like to alter the contract that Amelia Bones and Algeron Croaker signed yesterday,” Sirius stated.

“Gringotts is not in the habit of altering contracts,” Slipshard stated with a frown.

“Not even if this benefits Gringotts?” Sirius asked.

“I find it hard to believe that this ‘alteration’ is solely for Gringotts’ supposed gain,” Slipshard replied.

Sirius barked with laughter. “And you’d be right. Look, we’ve got some more prisoners that we’d like Gringotts to hold in their dungeons for us.”

“Really?” Slipshard asked with a sceptically raised eyebrow. “And just where did you find these … individuals?”

“The Ministry of Magic,” Harry grinned. “We took it back from Riddle and his Death Eaters tonight.”

“In that case, I believe that an alteration can be allowed. For a price, of course,” the banker said, making a small gesture with his finger to someone unseen inside the bank.

“There is one other matter,” Sirius said.

Slipshard cocked his head, inviting the man to continue.

“The new Ministry of Magic would like to contract Gringotts to erect new wards on the building which includes the one that rejects anyone bearing the Dark Mark from entering,” Sirius said. “The Ministry is willing to pay whatever price you ask, within reason of course. It will also add the promise of a seat and voice on the Wizengamot once it resumes, guaranteed by the combined Most Ancient and Noble Houses of Bones, Black and Potter and the Ancient House of Peverell.”

Slipshard grinned toothily at the two of them.

“You do know how to drive an interesting negotiation,” he said. “While I am not authorised to agree to such a proposition, I can assure you that Gringotts shall give it all due consideration and inform you of our decision as soon as possible.”

“Please make it soon,” Harry pleaded. “We’re supposed to stay here until you give us an answer and you’ve no idea how tired I am right now.”

“I make no promises,” Slipshard said before turning and disappearing back into the great marble building, the door closing behind him.

-oOoOo-

Amelia knelt beside one particular body that lined the wall of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was only one of eighteen, all who had fought and died for the Light, to take the building back from Riddle and his forces, and the only one that had come with them from Potter Island.

“You’ll be missed, Algeron,” she whispered, her head bowed.

After adjusting the hood of his cloak so that his face was more properly shadowed, she gave his shoulder a final pat and stood. A precise wave of her wand conjured a plain white sheet in the middle of the air which she directed to cover his body.

Looking up and down the row of bodies alongside the wall, Amelia noted that each of the them had been treated with the same dignity and respect. A turn of her head showed her that the same couldn’t be said for the bodies on the opposite side of the Atrium.

It was there that the Ministry workers, the Death Eaters, that had opposed them and had died in the battle had been dumped. And it was a dumping. Those bodies lay every which way, more piled on top of each other than laid out neatly in a row. It was easy to see that any that had a covering had had it simply tossed on the body with a hope for the best.

With a sigh, Amelia shook her head. They may have been the enemy, but they were still human beings, people deserving of at least some respect in death.

Taking out her monocle, Amelia rubbed the bridge of her nose and her eyes. She was tired and in desperate need of sleep. Idly, she wondered if she could sneak off to her old office and catch an hour or so of rest, assuming that the cot that she kept there hadn’t been tossed by her ‘replacement’.

“Madam Bones?” a voice called and she turned, replacing her monocle as she did so.

“Yes?” she asked and instantly admonished herself; there was no need to let her weariness show through as irritation directed at her friends and allies.

“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am,” Tonks said, “but as the highest ranking Ministry Department Head here, I thought that I should bring this to your attention straight away.”

Amelia made a gesture for the young auror to get on with it.

“We caught a prisoner, Ma’am, one trying to access the building,” Tonks said.

“I take it this is someone important?” Amelia asked.

In response, Tonks waved her wand, dispelling the disillusionment spell that she’d placed on the short, squat toad-like woman wearing the pink cardigan trussed up and floating behind her.

“Well, hello there, Dolores,” Amelia smiled.

Umbridge’s mouth was moving rapidly up and down making the skin under her chin wobble but nary a sound could be heard through the silencing charm.

“I must inform you that you’ve been relieved of your post as Minister for Magic and that you will be standing trial on the charges of … well, let’s just say _charges_ , and leave it at that; I’m in no mood to, nor do I have the time to, list every one of them to you right now,” Amelia stated.

“ _Umbridge!”_ a voice roared, echoing throughout the Atrium.

Amelia spun to see Arn, the bearded leader of the force from Diagon Alley storming his way towards them, wand in hand and a glower on his face fit to kill.

“You had my wife killed!” Arn yelled, stomping right up to the woman, spittle flying from his mouth. “She was the kindest, gentlest soul you ever met and you had her killed _because she was a muggleborn_! And my unborn child with her!”

Amelia barely had time to move before Arn’s wand was poked hard into Umbridge’s stomach, the former Minister’s face wincing with the pain.

“ _Bombarda_!” Arn whispered.

Amelia’s stunner was just a fraction of a second late and both, Umbridge and Arn dropped to the floor almost simultaneously. One was clearly dead, a visible hole through her middle, the other, simply unconscious in the blood that he’d just spilled.

“Get this _man_ into a holding cell,” Amelia ordered. “When he wakes up, inform him that he’s charged with the murder of Dolores Umbridge.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” a visibly sick-looking Tonks replied before flicking her wand at Arn to gather his wand to place into an evidence bag.

Amelia looked around and waved a couple of people over so that they could see about cleaning up the body and mess. Yes, the woman had done some truly terrible deeds and been responsible for many, many more. It was a given that she would have been convicted, even possibly sentenced to the Veil.  In Amelia’s opinion, she probably even deserved to die, but not like that.

With the rush of adrenaline and the need for Law and Order to be re-established as quickly as possible, Amelia’s thoughts immediately abandoned any idea of rest or sleep. There was simply too much work to be done to indulge in luxuries like that.

-oOoOo-

Sirius and Harry found Amelia in her old office inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

A single knock on the open door was enough to have Amelia look up from the once pristine white wall that was now all but covered in writing. She let out a relieved smile at not only the sight of them, but also who they had with them.

“I take it our request was granted?” she asked without preamble.

“Yep,” Sirius replied, walking in and perching himself on the end of Amelia’s desk. “This is Gornock, he’s one of Gringott’s premier warders.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amelia nodded to the goblin. “How soon can you get to work and how quickly can you have our new wards up?”

Gornock held up a hand, his long fingers pointing to the roof.

“Before any warding can take place, the contract between Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic must be completed, agreed to and signed,” the goblin said.

Amelia looked between Sirius and Harry who had flopped into one of her chairs and now looked in danger of sliding out of it.

“I thought you two went to get all of these details sorted out?” she asked.

“Well, we did. In theory,” Sirius stated.

“What Sirius _isn’t_ saying is that we managed to get a _verbal_ agreement for the _possibility_ of Gringotts providing a warding team to have the Ministry of Magic getting new, top class wards, including the anti-Dark Mark ward,” Harry clarified.

“Verbal? Possibility?” Amelia repeated. “Why do I suspect that you’re about to drop a bludger in my lap and give me a headache?”

“Because we are,” Sirius grinned.

“If we can get down to business?” Gornock asked, pulling a thick roll of parchment from his breast pocket.

Amelia left the wall that she’d been working on to join the goblin and Sirius at her desk.

“I did actually manage to get most of what we want worked out,” Sirius explained. “We only encountered problems when it came to signing. _I_ can’t sign a thing, I’m not the Minister of Magic or a Department Head. And while I am on the Wizengamot, I haven’t been an active part of that body since it was recalled by Umbridge to push through the new laws that she wanted.

“And because I couldn’t sign anything, that meant that there were some details that also couldn’t be filled in. We managed to beat most of it out but it needs the proper representative in order to finish the job in an official capacity.”

Amelia stared at him.

“ _Officially,_ I’m not a Department Head either and I’m certainly not the Minister for Magic, not that there is one at the moment,” Amelia stated.

“Yeah, heard about what happened,” Harry said. “Can’t say I’m sorry about it either, not after the laws that she’d been pushing through.”

“Gringotts does not recognise the appointments of the Department Heads since the _coup_ that occurred under the leadership of You-Know-Who,” Gornock stated. “That includes Dolores Umbridge as the Minister of Magic.”

“You don’t?” Amelia asked. “Then who do you recognise as being in charge?”

“To put it bluntly, you,” Gornock stated.

“Me?” a surprised and confused Amelia repeated.

“Of course. How else did you believe that the contract you signed only yesterday for Gringotts to house your prisoners was deemed legal?” Gornock asked. “With the previous Minister for Magic deceased and you being the most senior of the Department Heads still alive, Gringotts recognises you, Amelia Susan Bones, as being the Minister for Magic of Great Britain, pro tem.”

“Oh, Merlin!” Amelia breathed while Sirius let out a great barking laugh.

“Couldn’t think of anyone better,” Harry commented.

Amelia shot the two of them the darkest of looks.

“If you will examine these three specific sections,” Gornock said, unrolling the contract and pointing out the different places with his long fingers. “These are the types of wards that you are contracting Gringotts to erect, yes?”

After closing her eyes briefly at the suddenness of her elevation, Amelia looked over the list.

“Yes, that’s correct,” she said.

“And this is the correct building description and location?” Gornock clarified.

“You don’t think we should have Saint Mungo’s done as well while we’re at it?” Sirius asked. “Once we’ve made sure that there aren’t any DEs in there holding patients or Healers hostage, of course.”

“No,” Amelia said with a shake of her head. “The Directors would never go for it anyway. They are bound by oath to help heal anyone in need and having such a ward that prevents people from getting into the hospital would go against that oath.”

“Lastly, this is the sum that Gringotts will charge the Ministry of Magic for the work,” Gornock stated, indicating a rather large number near the bottom.

“I agree,” Amelia said after a cursory glance.

“Then if you would sign here?” Gornock asked, producing a quill and handing it to Amelia.

“When can you start and how long will it take to have those wards erected?” Amelia asked as she finished signing.

“I have three full warding teams in the Atrium and ready to start immediately – the urgency of the job is reflected in the price that Gringotts is charging you. If all goes well, we should be done within two days,” Gornock stated.

“Thank you,” Amelia said with a small bow. “I will have Senior Auror Shacklebolt escort you back down to the Atrium.”

-oOoOo-

“So, what is all this, Am?” Sirius asked with a wave of his hand at the wall, after the goblin had departed the office.

Amelia crossed the room back to the wall that she’d been writing on before the interruption.

“Thoughts and ideas to get this country back up and running again the way that it should be,” Amelia replied.

“And you needed an entire _wall_ to get it all down?” Sirius asked.

“It was taking too much parchment,” Amelia shrugged. “Besides, this way I can cross-reference different ideas much more easily and effectively.”

Sirius took a few minutes to read over the lists that appeared there, taking note of the way that some were highlighted a different colour while others were joined together by lines.

Many were incredibly obvious and extremely important – these Amelia had highlighted in red: secure Saint Mungo’s from Death Eater influence; get the people of Hogsmeade to safety, up to and including abandoning the town if need be; clean out Knockturn Alley; and take Hogwarts from Riddle (this one was even circled).

There were others that appeared to be important and somewhat urgent, including reforming the Wizengamot completely, not the half-hearted way that Umbridge had used it; have a Chief Warlock appointed; hold elections to elect a new Minster for Magic; appoint Department Heads; and getting the various departments back up and running again, specifically the DMLE and Floo Regulation.

Off to one side, written is blue, appeared to be ideas that could be implemented while Magical Britain was being put back together again after the defeat of Riddle. As well as ensuring that a representative from the Goblins was placed on the Wizengamot (to keep Amelia’s and their promise), she’d written down the idea of having a representative from the centaurs, dwarves, merpeople and werewolves as well.

Updating Hogwarts so that it could once more be considered one of the best magical schools in the world was written at the bottom.

Sirius whistled appreciatively at what he was seeing.

“I’d say we’ve already got the right Minister for Magic appointed,” he said.

“I’m only doing the job because someone has to,” Amelia replied quickly. “As soon as we can hold elections, I’m handing it over to whatever sucker gets lumped with the job.”

“Sorry to tell you this, but after seeing all of that,” Sirius said, waving at the board, “my vote’s going straight to you. _And_ I’ll be telling everyone else to do the same.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Amelia hissed.

Noting Harry all but asleep in the chair and in danger of sliding out of it, Sirius took the chance to change topics.

“I think I better get him to bed. As it is, there’s going to be a host of annoyed people waiting for us once they realise that we disappeared in the middle of the night without telling them and have yet to come home,” Sirius stated.

Walking over, Sirius knelt beside the chair and gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle nudge.

“Come on, Pup, let’s get you home,” he said.

Harry’s groggy face merely nodded before he pushed himself upright, slipping sidewards as he tried to use a non-existent left hand. Thankfully, Sirius was instantly there to catch him and put an arm around him.

“We’ll see you later, Am.” Sirius said as the two headed for the door.

Amelia gave the two a nod before turning back to her wall, eager to add her new thoughts to it.

-oOoOo-

Lord Voldemort did not like what he was seeing at all. Instead of a triumphant procession, with Lucius in the lead and his Death Eaters flanking the lines of expected prisoners, all cowed by being in the very room as a Dark Lord such as he, Lucius and the group that he had led had entered the Hogwarts Great Hall in a single mob. Their countenance spoke volumes, meek and mild with a ripple of confusion thrown in.

“Report!” Voldemort snapped.

“My Lord, I regret to inform you that we could find no one,” Lucius stated, having dropped to his knees, his head near the floor in terror at the failure.

Voldemort stared at the man.

“No one? You expect me to believe that not a single witch or wizard, elderly or child could be found in the entirety of Hogsmeade?” he asked.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” Lucius said before rushing on. “We searched every building, every room. They’re all completely gone; most of their belongings with them.”

“And where would they have gone?” he asked, a question that had no need to be answered.

With the fall of firstly Diagon Alley and then the Ministry of Magic itself, word had filtered to him that Bones, Black and Potter had worked to solidify their hold, just as he, himself would have done in their place. Saint Mungo’s was secured against them and much of Knockturn Alley had been cleaned out as well. The only glimmer of good news was that that infernal Unspeakable had been killed in the process.

“Bellatrix, your arm,” he ordered.

Instantly his most devoted follower was by his side, her arm extending as she pushed the sleeve aside to reveal the pulsating, writhing form of the skull and snake that made up the Dark Mark. Extending a single finger, Voldemort pushed his magic into the Mark, calling each and every one of his Death Eaters to his side.

For most, what he was doing would result in excruciating pain; for Bellatrix, though, it only elicited a slight tightening around her eyes and a wide smile, even as her head was thrown back in what looked to be pleasure.

Looking around the room, Voldemort noted that most of those present grasped their arms as they felt the Mark burn. He still had dozens of wizards and witches at his disposal, not to mention the werewolves and other dark creatures but there should have been more.

The number before him should be double what it was, if not for Potter, Black and Bones. Each and every one of his losses, had resulted in the depletion of his forces. And now, now he was trapped behind the mighty wards of the ancient castle, his last place of safety.

What once was his crowning jewel had just become his prison, a prison that he was loath to leave, especially with his horcruxes all but certainly now gone.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry was currently doing his utmost not to grind his teeth in frustration and to rein in his emotions, instead sitting quietly and patiently at the table. It was either that or to shove back his chair – an action that, in his current frame of mind would mean it flying back to hit Mickey at the next table over – and to storm from the room.

In front of him was _supposed_ to be his dinner. A delicious, thick, juicy steak with a mound of buttered potatoes, honeyed carrots, peas and a dinner roll. Currently, though, his plate had been snaffled by Hermione and been pulled in front of her, but not before Neville on his other side had snatched his roll. Now both were in the process of ‘fixing’ it for him to eat – Hermione was cutting up his steak and Neville was buttering his roll.

“Oi, give that back to him,” Tonks ordered, plonking herself down across from Harry.

Hermione looked up, her knife and fork poised over Harry’s meal.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You know that Harry can’t …”

Once again, Harry tried very hard not to grind his teeth, especially at her vague hand gesture. He dearly loved the girl but right now he was struggling not to become annoyed by her attitude to his helplessness.

“I said, give it back,” Tonks repeated. “It’s time for Harry to do that for himself.”

“As much as I’d like to Tonks,” Harry said, conceding the inevitable by gesturing to his left side with his right hand.

Tonks, though, cut him off before he could complete the thought.

“Are you a wizard or not?” she asked. “All you need is the right spell. Do you honestly think every witch has the time to sit down and cut up her kid’s dinner every night? Of course not! There’s a spell for that.”

“There is?” a hopeful Harry asked.

“Yep,” Tonks replied, grabbing Harry’s plate and sliding it back where it belonged. “One for buttering bread, too, but I don’t know that one. Ask Molly, she’ll know. _But_ I do know the one for cutting up food. It’s pretty simple and any halfway decent wizard with enough power …”

“Like Harry,” Hermione interjected.

“Like Harry,” Tonks agreed, “can even learn to do the thing wandlessly.”

“What’s the spell?” Harry asked.

“ _Per particulas dividat_ ,” Tonks said distinctly, directing her wand at his steak.

Harry watched intently as she first drew a line down the middle of his steak with her wand before circling it and then jabbing her wand at it. Instantly, the steak divided into bite-sized pieces, each easy enough to be jabbed with a fork.

“There you go,” a grinning Tonks said.

“Thanks, Tonks, you’re a life-saver,” Harry grinned back and promptly stabbed a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth.

“Now, next thing,” Tonks said. “You haven’t been practising your metamorphmagus abilities, have you?”

Harry blinked at the non sequitur.

“Huh?” he asked.

“Eloquent as always,” Tonks smiled before gesturing at his face. “That scar. Do something about it. Unless you _like_ people staring at you?”

Harry stared at her. He hadn’t even given a thought to the idea that his metamorphmagus ability could hide his scars.

“That’d work?” he asked.

“You really think I’ve managed to stay looking this beautiful as an auror?” Tonks asked rhetorically. “I’ve fought a bunch of idiots with spells and knives and what not. Got my fair share of scars to show it. Not that you can see them, can you?”

Harry stared at her. She _seemed_ to be in earnest. And she was the one who’d taught him how to use his ability in the first place. If anyone was going to know what his body was capable of, it’d be Tonks.

Closing his eyes, Harry rested his hand on the table and concentrated. He imagined what his face _used_ to look like and _pushed_ that image into his body. Slowly, he felt his skin shifting as though a colony of ants were crawling under it.

A gasp from his left snapped his eyes open.

“Much better,” Tonks said before reaching over and stealing a carrot.

“It worked? I look like me again?” Harry asked hopefully.

“You always looked like you,” Hermione said, “but yes, you look like your old you again.”

Popping his wand into his hand, Harry transfigured a glass into a mirror. His smile was huge as he stared at his scar-less visage. His face was just as he remembered. Running his hand over it, Harry’s smile only grew – there was not even a feeling of the scar or of the skin puckering at all.

“If your concentration slips, it’ll change back,” Tonks warned, “just like any metamorph change.”

“Thanks, Tonks, you’re absolutely brilliant!” Harry gushed.

“I know,” Tonks stated with a self-satisfied smirk. “But it’s nice for others to recognise my brilliance as well.”

“Um, what about Harry’s arm, could he regrow it using his ability?” a nervous-sounding Neville asked.

Tonks’ face fell. “Unfortunately, not. Our ability is great, really useful even, but it still has limits and regrowing parts is one of them.”

Harry gave a small shrug. “I can live with that. At least there’s one part of me that people won’t be staring at any more.”

-oOoOo-

Three of the eight-seater tables were all but filled near the very front of the Dining Hall of Diricawl Academy of Magical Studies. A tense nervousness filled the air as the twenty fifth years, five seventh years and the lone fourth year waited. Around the edge of the hall, scores of parents murmured to those beside them, as equally as nervous as their children. In between the two groups, a smattering of the school’s professors sat at some of the tables, doing a not-so-good job of hiding their own interest in the proceedings.

Finally, after a wait that seemed to be measured in at least hours if not days, four people walked into the room.

The smallest of falters in Headmistress McGonagall’s footsteps at the sight of the waiting, eager room was only noticeable by someone looking extremely carefully. Alongside the Headmistress was Madam Marchbanks, Head of the Wizarding Examination Authority. Rounding out the four were Professor Tofty of the WEA and Diricawl’s Deputy Headmaster, Remus Lupin.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve walked into a room where the students have been so quiet and eager to hear me talk,” Headmistress McGonagall smiled.

“I don’t think that it’s us that they’re so eager to hear from,” Professor Lupin stated, eliciting a nervous-sounding laugh from the assembled students in front of him.

Professor Marchbanks, meanwhile, had begun to frown. Automatically, she’d done a headcount of the assembled students and then a second time after coming up with one more than the number of envelopes that she had in hand. Finally, she found the unfamiliar face.

“Excuse me, young man,” Professor Marchbanks said to a boy who was obviously losing his baby fat and quickly replacing it was pure muscle. “But I do not recall administering any OWL examinations with you?”

The boy in question blushed slightly. “Uh, no Ma’am. I’m not magical at all. I’m Dudley Dusley, Harry’s cousin. I’m in the same year as my friends and am in some of their classes but only the ones that don’t need any magic.”

“Mister Dursley will be receiving his Diricawl results today, alongside his classmates,” Headmistress McGonagall explained.

She then turned to the assembled students.

“You will be receiving two envelopes this morning,” she explained. “The first will contain the results from you OWL and NEWT results; the second will be the results issued from the classes you studied here at Diricawl which currently do not have an OWL or NEWT examination attached to them.”

“An error we at the Wizarding Examination Authority aim to correct in the coming year,” Professor Marchbanks stated.

“We will begin with the NEWT students,” Professor Tofty said. “Please come up when you hear your name called.”

As the old, nearly bald professor stepped forward, Professor Lupin moved with him, the envelopes that he would be handing out ready.

“Angelina Johnson,” Professor Tofty called.

Instantly, the Head Girl was up out of her feet, a nervous smile on her face as she quick-stepped across the intervening space to receive her envelopes, firstly from Professor Tofty and then from Professor Lupin.

Next was Lee Jordan, then Alicia Spinnet and Fred and George Weasley to round out the NEWT students.

As the first of the OWL students, Hannah Abbot’s name was called, Fred and George were staring at the two envelopes in their hands. They looked to each other, looked back at the envelopes and simultaneously dropped the Diricawl envelope to the table. Twin envelopes were ripped open, the parchment shook out and the results read. Eyes widened slightly before the two reached across and plucked the parchment from their brother’s hand at the exact same time.

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS

                                                                          Pass Grades:    Outstanding (O)                                  Fail Grades:    Poor (P)

                                                                                                 Exceeds Expectations (EE)                                         Dreadful (D)

                                                                                                 Acceptable (A)                                                            Troll (T)

FRED (or George) WEASLEY HAS ACHIEVED:

Charms:                                               EE

Defence Against the Dark Arts:           EE

Herbology:                                          A

Potions:                                               EE

Transfiguration                                    A

CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE ACHIEVED FIVE (5) NEWTS

After staring at each other for a full minute, their faces all but blank, betraying nothing of their results, the two switched their results back, lay them on the table face down and picked up their second envelope where they went through the same routine.

DIRICAWL ACADEMY OF MAGICAL STUDIES Seventh Year Results

                                                                                Pass Grades:    Outstanding (O)                                  Fail Grades:    Poor (P)

                                                                                                       Exceeds Expectations (EE)                                         Dreadful (D)

                                                                                                       Acceptable (A)                                                            Troll (T)

FRED (or George) WEASLEY HAS ACHIEVED:

Business and Finance:                         EE

Magical Language (Gobbledegook):  A

“Well? How’d you do?” Lee asked the two.

In response, Fred and George simply beamed their best mate a broad grin before bounding from their chairs and scampering across the room to their mother to show off their achievement.

At the next table over, Harry found himself quite amused by Hermione steadfastly refusing to open her own envelopes despite her wriggling in her chair which told all and sundry how much she desired otherwise.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Harry smiled as Luna, the lone fourth year to take some of her OWLs was called to receive her envelopes.

“I promised I’d wait for you so that we could do it together,” Hermione replied determinedly.

Finally, Harry’s name was called and he quick-stepped across the room and back again.

“Ready?” Harry asked his girlfriend.

“Yes! No. Yes,” Hermione said before tearing into her first envelope.

Harry carefully cast a minor cutting curse at the top of his envelope before reaching in and shaking out the parchment.

ORDINARY WIZARD LEVELS

                                                                           Pass Grades:    Outstanding (O)                                  Fail Grades:    Poor (P)

                                                                                                  Exceeds Expectations (EE)                                         Dreadful (D)

                                                                                                  Acceptable (A)                                                            Troll (T)

HARRY POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:

Ancient Runes:                                   O

Arithmancy:                                        O

Astronomy:                                         EE

Care of Magical Creatures:                 EE

Charms:                                               O

Defence Against the Dark Arts:         O+

Herbology:                                          EE

Potions:                                               O

Transfiguration:                                   O

CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE ACHIEVED NINE (9) OWLS

These results are in addition to the two (2) OWLs that you have already achieved in the subjects of History of Magic and Muggle studies.

Sporting a broad smile, Harry quickly opened his second envelope to read the results in there.

DIRICAWL ACADEMY OF MAGICAL STUDIES Fifth Year Results

                                                                            Pass Grades:    Outstanding (O)                                  Fail Grades:    Poor (P)

                                                                                                   Exceeds Expectations (EE)                                         Dreadful (D)

                                                                                                   Acceptable (A)                                                            Troll (T)

HARRY POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:

Enchanting:                                         O

Magical Language (Gobbledegook):  EE

“Straight ‘O’s’, Hermione?” Harry guessed.

“Yes!” she all but squealed. “And with the two from last year, that gives me eleven. How about you?”

“Passed everything, O’s and EE’s,” Harry replied.

“We’ll be able to pick our NEWT subjects now,” Hermione stated. “You’ll continue Enchanting, I’m guessing – you are _so_ lucky getting to start that one a year early – and Spell Crafting for me.”

“I’d have thought our mundane results would be on here as well,” Harry said, looking back at his Diricawl results and noting the absence of Mathematics, English, Science and The Arts.

“Mum says that they had to go to an independent marker,” Hermione stated. “We’ll get those ones in a week or two.”

“Your parents are looking expectantly at you,” Harry commented.

“Come on, let’s go show them how well we did. And Sirius will want to see, too,” she said, pulling him up as she, too, rose from the seat.

All around the room, students were eagerly showing off their results and receiving excited congratulations and hugs. From the front, four incredibly proud educators looked on with smiles on their faces.

-oOoOo-

A menagerie of animal heads turned at the sound of the door opening. Fred and George Weasley took one look at the inhabitants of the room before carefully sidling along the wall to stay out of the way, their hands carefully kept behind them.

One of the largest, a huge black grim, transformed into Professor Black as he padded towards the new arrivals.

“What brings you two here?” Sirius asked.

Fred and George shared a look before turning back to their professor.

“We, uh, we could use some help,” Fred said.

“Help?” Sirius asked, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. “Help with what?”

Again, Fred and George shared a look before simultaneously bringing their hands from behind their backs to reveal that each carried a vial full of thick potion.

“You’ve brewed the potion to show you what your Animagus form is?” Sirius asked, knowing where the two were up to in the long, long process.

His voice, though, petered off as he took in the colour and consistency of the potion that the two were holding.

“That’s not right,” he began, his eyes narrowed at the vials before snapping up to stare at the two. “What have you two done?”

“Well, we had a bit of an accident,” George began sheepishly.

“We were _trying_ to brew the potion …” Fred continued.

“The one that we’re supposed to be up to …”

“To show us in a trance …”

“Dream-like …”

“Vision, what our forms are.”

“Got it right and everything …”

“Followed the recipe perfectly …”

“It was the perfect colour, …”

“Consistency, …”

“Texture, …”

“Everything.”

“And we were all ready to drink it – ”

“Two months ago.”

“But then Lee walked in .”

“He’d just been out in the greenhouses …”

“There was something on him …”

“Some kind of pollen, we’re guessing.”

“Whatever it was, we’re obviously allergic to it …”

“Had us coughing and sneezing like crazy …”

“Straight into our potion …”

“Ruining it …”

“Sort of …”

“At least for using it to find out our form that way.”

“But it _did_ mean that the first ingredient was added …”

“To make the potion that would change us …”

“Into our animal.”

“So, we figured, why not?”

“And kept on brewing.”

“Until today.”

“When it was finally ready.”

“But seeing as how this is something completely new,”

“Different,”

“Unexpected.”

“We thought that it’d be wise of us to do it where you could help …”

“We know, completely unexpected of us …’

“Not our usual method of doing things …”

“But we’re doing it anyway.”

“So, will you watch over us …”

“Make sure nothing goes wrong …”

“As we make this first foray into our beautiful,”

“Exotic,”

“Animal selves?” they finished together with pleading, expectant eyes staring at Sirius.

Sirius shook his head, trying to get the fast-growing headache to abate.

“You know that this is incredibly dangerous and reckless, don’t you?” he asked. “There’s a chance – extremely low, I’ll grant you – but a chance nonetheless that you’ll be an animal that doesn’t like this environment.”

“We know,” Fred nodded.

“That’s why we’re here …”

“So that you can reverse it …”

“If things go sidewards …”

“Strange …”

“Out of whack,” George finished.

“Alright, since you’ve got the potion ready and you _have_ done the right thing and come asking for help, we’ll do this,” Sirius agreed.

He then turned and faced the room, raising his voice to ensure that all heard him in the vast space.

“Oi! You lot! I need everyone human again for a couple of minutes,” he called.

Everywhere animals stopped their play or scampering about or sitting and examining their own body and reverted to their human forms.

The roan horse shrunk to become Susan Bones; the grizzly and black bears changed into Hannah and Neville; the owl and swan swooped down from where they were perched, resolving into the Greengrass sisters. Tracy Davis languidly uncurled herself after spending time as a cat while beside her, Lil Moon grudgingly gave up being a lemur. The rollicking canines gave one last bark of excitement before the Labrador changed into Fiona Spinks and the Jack Russell terrier changed into Colin Creevey. The last to change were the platypus, fox and mongoose.

“All right, you two, into the centre of the room and take a seat,” Sirius ordered as the others all took up position around the room, looking curiously on.

“It seems that these two have brewed the potion to show them their form on their own,” Sirius said. “However, there’s been a bit of a stuff-up and instead of the trance state to find out their forms, these two are going straight for a forced transformation. There’s no telling _what_ they’ll turn into, so everyone be ready and make sure to stay out of the way.”

After checking that he’d been understood, Sirius looked to the twins.

“Who’s first?” he asked.

Fred and George glanced at each other before giving a single, firm nod.

“Together,” they said and promptly upended their potion, drinking the lot in a single go.

Everyone watched as their skin began to ripple and darken slightly to grey. At the same time, all of their hair completely vanished. Almost together, the two flopped forward onto their stomachs, even as their legs snapped together and began to fuse into one. The sound of ripping rent the air as their bodies grew, even as their arms shrunk and changed shape. From the remains of their clothes, a dark, pointed protuberance emerged in the middle of their backs. As for their heads, their eyes seemed to drag across their face, pulling further apart even as their mouth lengthened out and their nose drew inwards before disappearing altogether.

Finally, after nearly two minutes where their bodies underwent the change, they were done.

For a moment, there was absolute silence in the room and then, one by one, starting with Sirius and Harry, the room erupted into howls of laughter.

As for the twin dolphins, they simply rolled their eyes upwards trying to take everything in. Their bodies rocked slightly from side to side but, out of the water, they weren’t going anywhere.

“ _Aguamenti!”_ Hermione said, pointing her wand forward.

Using her wand like a hose, she sprayed first one dolphin and then the other, making them arch their backs, their tails coming right up and a series of ‘squees’ and ‘clicks’ emerge from them as they smiled and seemed to laugh.

“Dolphins! Who’d have guessed that?” Harry laughed.

“Well, it does make sense when one thinks about it,” Hermione replied. “Dolphins are known as being fun, always smiling and laughing. They also live in large groups, not unlike the Weasleys themselves; and they’re incredibly helpful – there are countless stories of dolphins helping people throughout the centuries.”

“When you put it like that, it’s perfect,” Harry replied.

Sirius, meanwhile, had forced the two back into their human forms.

“Not much practical use though,” George pointed out.

“Unless we go to the beach,” Fred countered.

“That could be fun,” George pointed out.

“We _are_ presently living on an island,” said Fred.

“An island surrounded by water,” George nodded eagerly

“Hold on, you two,” Sirius interjected. “No swimming around the island until you know your animal exceptionally well and can transform by yourselves – backwards and forwards – well enough for myself and Headmistress McGonagall to say that you can.”

Fred and George nodded solemnly.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to do anything reckless,” George promised.

“Well, any more than normal,” Fred added.

“And we have no interest in getting stuck as dolphins …”

“In the middle of the sea …”

“Not so easy to pull pranks like that,” the two stated.

“As long as that’s understood,” Sirius smiled.

-oOoOo-

Piles of paper, all in neat stacks lined both sides of the desk that Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Deputy Headmaster Remus Lupin sat at. As decisions were made, the piles were moved from one side of the desk to the other.

It had been a long meeting, preparing for the coming school year. More than one pot of tea had already been drunk and the plate of sandwiches that they’d asked for had been eaten quite some time ago.

Progress, though, had been made. Subjects that would be offered this year had been decided upon. The teaching staff had been confirmed, including classroom allocations and a tentative timetable. Resources that needed to be replenished or bought for the school had been decided upon. All in all, both were feeling quite pleased with their progress.

“I’m inclined to make both Katie Bell and Leanne Montgomery Head Girls,” Minerva said. “With the two of them being our only prospective seventh years, it only makes sense.”

“Especially when there are no boys in that year level,” Remus agreed with a nod.

“As one would expect, our largest intake is going to be new first years,” Minerva continued.

“We only have enough spaces for twenty,” Remus reminded her. “I know that Hogwarts usually has an enrolment of anything from forty to sixty, but we simply cannot handle that many.”

“I am very well aware of that,” Minerva replied. “I’d like to concentrate our intake on the muggleborns. At their age, it is important that they begin learning how to control their magic before they become a danger to not only themselves, but to those around them. The half-bloods and purebloods, at least, should have family that can teach them.”

“Any idea how many muggleborn there are?” Remus asked,

Minerva glanced across the room at the ancient book and its elegant green-feathered quill. Pomona Sprout had given her life to ensure that it was sent here to Diricawl and out of the hands of Riddle.

“Thirteen,” Minerva replied. “I believe that you and I, partnered with the Grangers, should try to visit each of them as soon as possible.”

“Good idea,” Remus nodded. “A magical and a mundane, one who has a daughter who has gone through the same thing would be good to give the new parents an idea of what to expect.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Minerva smiled. “Once we have their acceptances, we can open up the remaining spots that we have to the general magical population and see if we get any applications.”

“There are two that I’d like to invite personally,” Remus said.

“Werewolves?” Minerva guessed.

“Yes,” Remus replied. “Lionel Hawkins’ father put me on to them. A boy and girl. The boy, David, was bitten when he was six; the girl, Jessica, was only turned two months ago when the family was attacked. I think that we’ve proven that with the measures that we’ve put in place, that it’s safe to have werewolf students.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Minerva stated firmly. “And Lionel has been an excellent addition to Diricawl.”

“He has indeed,” Remus smiled. “Not the top student but he regularly achieves above average results. And he’s made a lot of friends here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. Go see these new students as soon as you can and offer them a place here,” Minerva said.

-oOoOo-

“We cannot allow Riddle time to plan,” Amelia stated.

“What other option do we have?” Shacklebolt asked. “He controls Hogwarts.”

That statement was at the very heart of the meeting currently being held in Minister for Magic Bones’ office. She’d grumbled and complained the whole time but finally conceded that she needed to at least make a showing of being in charge. The general population _needed_ that visual reminder that, no matter the state that Magical Britain was currently in, things had improved, the good guys were ‘back in charge’, at least nominally. Thus, Amelia had moved from her office in the DMLE to here. One wall had been stripped of its shelves of doo-dads and had her notes transferred to it so that she could see what still needed to happen.

“It’s an impossible task,” the new Head Unspeakable stated. “Those wards are impossible to breach unless you have a Dark Mark.”

“No. They’re not,” Sirius replied with a shake of his head. “How do you think we got those kids out? _By firstly going in through the wards_.”

“A small group of animagi isn’t going to bring You-Know-Who to justice,” Augusta Longbottom stated.

“No, that’s what the combined force of aurors, Hitwizards, Unspeakables and other volunteers that we can put together is for,” Amelia said. “There’s no other way than to fight. It’s simply a case of, with Riddle controlling the wards, we can’t get in to take the battle to him.”

“That’s not quite accurate,” Minerva said slowly.

All eyes turned to stare at her.

“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.

“While I’m certain that Riddle is in control of the Hogwarts’ wards, he does not have complete control over them. That honour has always rested with the Headmaster,” Minerva replied. “Even back when I was Deputy Head of Hogwarts and Dumbledore was away from the school at an ICW meeting and he entrusted the wards with me, he always maintained a link, able to override me at any moment.”

“Are you telling us that all we need to do is get to Snape and get _him_ to take down the wards for us?” Amelia asked, staring at her.

“Essentially, yes,” Minerva confirmed.

“ _That_ might actually be doable,” Sirius mused.


	24. Chapter 24

“Put out that light!” Amelia hissed.

The forest darkened to near pitch black as the young auror – who should have known better in Amelia’s opinion – instantly obeyed.

This mission had been two weeks in the planning; two long, gruelling weeks of convincing enough people to sign on to make it at least feasible. And really, when it all came down to it, there was simply too much luck involved in the plan to give anyone a sense that they could pull it off. Let alone without a hitch. But it was the best that they could come up with in order to take down Riddle once and for all and to reclaim Hogwarts and turn it back into the school that it was supposed to be.

Thus why Amelia, practically all of her aurors, Hitwizards, Unspeakables and a large contingent of willing civilians were currently sitting on their wands in the middle of the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night. Basic repelling wards had been erected around the clearing to – hopefully – keep away any of the creatures that lived here, including the colony of acromantula. Of the centaurs, there’d been no sign or sight and it’d been deemed wisest to leave them be until the war was over and peace was returned.

Assuming that they won.

To do so, it all came down to this one crucial part of the plan, a plan that Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter and their friends were responsible for. Only _they_ could accomplish it. Only _they_ could get through the Hogwarts’ death wards. Only _they_ had a chance of completing the mission: Kidnap the Headmaster.

-oOoOo-

Almost identically as it had happened barely three weeks’ previously, a small group of animagi peered out at the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the underbrush that lined the Forbidden Forest.

Eyes that were suited to seeing in the near blackness easily picked out the combination of human guards and non-human guards. The same half dozen trolls and group of fire crabs patrolled the grounds and the shoreline of the Great Lake. The full moon having passed during the intervening time meant that the werewolf guards were once again merely human, albeit humans with enhanced senses and strength.

By sheer force of will, Padfoot ensured that the others would stay where they were until he gave them the signal. Having achieved that, the great, black grim slunk forward, his belly low to the ground until he was right in front of the wards.

Taking a deep breath, Padfoot slipped further onto the grounds, passing through the ward line. When nothing happened, he looked back with a doggy grin and the tiniest of _wuffs_. It was still safe; obviously how they’d broken in the last time still had not been worked out and the hole plugged.

One by one, the rest of the animagi followed – mongoose, tabby cat, owl, fox, black bear. Exactly like last time. The one difference to this incursion was the bear. In place of the backpack that he wore last time, this time he carried a platypus on his back and a long staff between his teeth.

One by one, keeping to the shadows with the passing clouds, moving only when it was safe to do so, the group crossed the grounds, pausing only when they were in the deep shadows of one of the greenhouses.

Bypassing the guards without at the very least thinning them out for those that were to – hopefully – follow, stuck in Padfoot and Tavi’s paws, however, they knew the plan. If they didn’t succeed in their part, then there’d be no point in taking out any guards; there’d simply be no way for the larger force to infiltrate the castle grounds in the first place.

As before, the tabby was the first to dart into the small courtyard, changing into Minerva McGonagall only a foot away from the statue placed in one corner. Her wand was in her hand instantly and she tapped the wall, opening the passage for the others to dart into and out of sight of any unintentional eyes.

-oOoOo-

Peter hadn’t been having a very good time of it of late. Of course, when you served a Dark Lord who enjoyed meting out the occasional torture curse for kicks, ‘fun’ wasn’t in the job description. Job satisfaction, though, _that_ wasn’t totally out of the question.

The Dark Lord had given Peter a job, one that only _he_ could accomplish and he was succeeding in it. Not as quickly as the Dark Lord would like, but Peter was making enough progress to keep those _crucios_ at bay. It helped that he worked at night as well as throughout the day only taking naps when he had to in order to keep going.

What he was trying to do was complete a task that had taken four of them close to two years to accomplish in a matter of weeks. Admittedly, when the Marauders were working on creating the first Map of the castle, they’d had to do it in secret, fitting it in between classes and avoiding their fellow students as well as the professors.

Peter looked down at the large piece of parchment in his hands. So far, he’d managed to tie the Great Hall, the four House dormitories (including every single room inside them), a handful of classrooms and most of the major corridors to the Map. It was a start, at least. At the rate that he was going, he even hoped that he’d have a completed Map to hand to the Dark Lord by Christmas.

Well, one could dream, couldn’t they? More than likely he’d drop dead from lack of sleep or magical exhaustion long before then. He’d never realised exactly how much tying the parchment, location and the wards together had taken magically. But then, thinking back all those many years, it’d been Prongs and Padfoot that had done the bulk of the spell casting with Moony working out the order of things and Wormtail himself acting as lookout.

The occasional black footsteps walked across the map, tiny names beside them, as Death Eaters patrolled the halls. Peter couldn’t help but smile at seeing his handiwork at work.

A singular pair of footsteps appearing out of nowhere caught his attention and Peter frowned at it, wondering what secret passageway they’d emerged from. And then, as another and then another emerged, his eyes began to widen. The fact that, in the end, there were _seven_ of them together was completely out of the norm. At this time of night, guards patrolled in pairs, occasionally in groups of three.

Curious as to who these Death Eaters were, Peter brought the Map closer to his face and squinted at the tiny writing.

His jaw dropped at what he was seeing. After standing frozen for nearly half a minute, Peter realised the significance of his finding. _This_ would stop those infernal _crucios_.

Peter took off at a sprint for the Dark Lord’s chamber, the Map flapping in his hand beside him.

-oOoOo-

“Damn!” Sirius muttered.

His head jerked up from the map that he’d just been looking at to stare firstly in the direction that they were going and then twisting to look behind them. This was the worst possible place. There were no broom closets or classrooms in this small corridor, no alcoves or statues, simply a plain, albeit short for Hogwarts, corridor.

“What is it?” Minerva asked urgently.

“We’re about to have company,” Sirius replied. “Two patrols coming right towards us from either end.”

“How many?” Harry asked, his staff coming up before himself, ready.

“Three from the front; two behind,” Sirius replied.

Instantly, Minerva, Daphne and Luna turned about, Luna crouching low to the ground beside the wall, Daphne practically over the top of her. At the same time, Hermione and Neville were taking up identical positions facing the way that they had been going. The remaining three held wands and staff at the ready for the first sight of the Death Eaters.

“Don’t let any of them escape,” Sirius ordered.

Nods all around told that his instructions would be obeyed.

Two black-clad men rounded the corner from the rear first. Their conversation was cut off mid-word as they caught sight of the invaders and they instantly went for their wands. Not having them to hand, though, was their downfall as two stunners hit one in the chest and a bludgeoning curse clipped the other in the side of the head, instantly knocking him unconscious.

The _thumps_ of the two bodies hitting the ground was loud enough to bring the other patrol running.

As the three Death Eaters rounded the corner, a hail of curses spat at them. The lead Death Eater was flung off his feet, hitting his head hard into the stone corridor before dropping, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. The second, likewise, fell, unconscious before he hit he hit the ground.

With his friends taking the brunt of the assault, the last man was able to get up a partial shield before Sirius’ bludgeoning curse struck him. The blow that had managed to get through the shield staggered the man and he stumbled, allowing Neville’s stunner to sail over his head.

A pair of sickly yellow curses were snapped from the Death Eater’s wand only to impact the shields that Hermione and Harry spun into place. Sirius’ follow up, though, ended the fight – a piercing curse through the man’s shoulder followed by a stunner to the chest.

“Get them over here, quickly,” Minerva said, indicating that the five should be lined up alongside the wall.

As each one was laid in place, they were stripped of their wands and bound. Sirius then walked the length of the five, sending a bone breaker into each of their wand arms, a second stunner to ensure that they were unconscious and then disillusioned them. Each wand was snapped in half and the pile of broken sticks was disillusioned.

Hermione, meanwhile had _scourgified_ the wall of any blood.

“That should keep them out of the fight for later,” Sirius stated.

“Let’s keep moving; we’ve still got another two levels to go,” Harry said.

-oOoOo-

“My Lord! My Lord!”

Peter’s initial tentative knocking on the door to the Dark Lord’s chamber had started tentatively but with each glance at the map in his hand, had become louder and more insistent.

“ _Crucio_!”

Peter screamed, dropped to the ground and began writhing about before the fact that the door had even been yanked open, a dark, menacing shape standing there, had registered.

Finally, after what felt an eternity, the curse was lifted.

“Explain yourself, Wormtail,” the Dark Lord hissed.

“P…pott…potter, B…black. They’re … they’re in the … castle,” Peter managed to stutter through his convulsions.

Lord Voldemort’s eyes blazed. “You are sure?”

In reply, Peter held up a shaking hand, offering the map to his Lord.

Sharp red eyes roved over the map before fixating on a single spot, the tiniest of smiles on his face. Peter shivered, there was no way that he ever wanted such a smile directed at him.

“You have done well, Peter; you shall be rewarded,” the Dark Lord stated.

“Thank you, Master,” Peter replied.

“Your arm,” Lord Voldemort commanded.

With a whimper, Peter lifted his left arm before screaming in agony as he felt the power of the Dark Lord coursing through his Dark Mark, calling his followers to him.

-oOoOo-

The stone gargoyle sat in its place, guarding the entrance and ignoring them completely.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to guess the password,” Hermione pointed out.

“And no, ‘slimy git’ definitely _isn’t_ going to be it,” Harry deadpanned at Sirius.

“Then how do we get in?” Neville asked.

“Would this help?” Luna asked from where she was standing almost behind the statue and looking at something close to the ground.

“What is it, Luna?” Minerva asked.

“A small etching of a snake,” she replied.

Instantly, Harry was around and crouched down beside her.

“Brilliant! Thanks, Luna,” Harry said, giving the girl a side-hug.

After rounding the gargoyle once more, Harry looked the statue in the eye.

“ _§Open§?”_ he said.

At once, the gargoyle leapt to the side, revealing the spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster’s Office.

One by one, the group hastened inside, the gargoyle returning to its position after the last of them had passed.

-oOoOo-

The alert charm woke Severus, his eyes instantly snapping open and his legs swinging out of bed before he was even conscious of the movement. But then, it wasn’t completely unexpected – it was a condition that he’d trained himself to do, after all, no Dark Lord _liked_ to be kept waiting and Potion Masters whose hands constantly shook were more likely to blow themselves up than anything else.

Hands automatically found his cloak and swung it over his shoulders before being fastened over his pyjamas. Then, after taking a deep breath to collect his emotions and thoughts and to lock them away, Severus strode from his private chambers.

“My Lord,” Severus began as he opened the door only to falter at the crowd gathered there.

“Finally recognising that I’m your superior, Snape? About time,” Sirius smirked.

“You have never been my better, Black, nor will you ever be,” Severus countered.

His eyes skipped over the remainder of the group – Minerva, Potter, Granger, Longbottom, Greengrass and Lovegood.

“Exactly how did you get into the castle?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“That’s not important right now,” Minerva responded.

The rest of her statement was erased in a blast of pain from the Mark on his arm and Severus hissed, his right hand closing over it in a futile effort of holding the pain at bay.

“Severus?” Minerva asked, concern etched on her face.

“Judging by the summons that I and the rest of the Death Eaters just received, the Dark Lord knows that you are here,” Severus stated, eliciting worried looks being exchanged between the interlopers.

“We need to move quickly,” Harry stated.

“Yes. Move. Leave. However it was that you got in here, get yourself back out again. You can’t hope to accomplish whatever it was your deluded minds dreamed up,” Severus stated.

“But we’re already here,” Luna replied.

“Professor, we need your help,” Daphne stated.

Severus stared at his once-was-Slytherin.

“Whatever it is, the answer is ‘no’,” he stated.

“Severus, we need you to lower the ward that blocks those without the Dark Mark from entering,” Minerva stated.

“You can’t be serious,” Severus said and then internally groaned, knowing what was coming.

“Actually, I can and I am!” Black retorted predictably. “For your information, we have a force ready to attack the moment that you lower that ward.”

Severus shook his head at their ludicrousness.

“The Dark Lord has control over the wards, just as I do,” Severus pointed out. “Even if I did as you wished, he’d simply raise them again.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Minerva stated flatly. “ _You_ are the Headmaster. _You_ have ultimate control over the wards. Even designating someone else as having control over them is only minimal and provisional. You can simply block him from changing anything.”

Severus stared at his old colleague.

“If I did so, the Dark Lord would simply kill me and then raise the wards himself,” he pointed out.

Minerva shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t. Firstly, we would protect you. Amelia – the acting Minister for Magic – has guaranteed you a pardon if you do this. Secondly, upon the death of the Headmaster, control of Hogwarts’ wards fall to the Deputy and are immediately stripped from anyone not holding that position.”

“Hogwarts does not have a Deputy Head at this time,” Severus stated.

The crash of the doors opening behind the group spun everyone around. There, framed in the doorway, stood Lord Voldemort, his eyes blazing as he took in the scene in the Headmaster’s Office.

“I find the lack of wands being pointed at you disturbing, Severus,” Lord Voldemort stated, his eyes coming to rest on the Headmaster.

Severus stood perfectly still, being extra careful with his emotions and thoughts. Obviously, he’d done enough as the Dark Lord’s eyes switched to each of the others in the room, a pleased, victorious smile on his face.

“Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, how _good_ of you to join us,” he purred.

Six wands and a staff had come up at the Dark Lord’s entrance but a single swish from the Dark Lord’s wand sent the seven people flying across the room to crash against the wall. Portraits of past Headmasters fell, their frames cracking on the floor and their voices raised in protest.

Severus watched blankly as the seven of them remained stuck to the wall, their limbs flayed every which way. Fear was etched in every face, in every pair of eyes, all but one of which was focussed on the Dark Lord.

The last, though, the last were the pair that he least wanted to see. Emerald green bored into his own deep brown eyes. The exact same emerald green that he’d once cherished above all others. Severus found his gaze locked and his thoughts betraying him as he saw the girl that those eyes once belonged to. The girl that he’d grown up with. The girl that he’d ultimately betrayed and caused to be snuffed out. The image of those lifeless green eyes rose into his mind’s eye and became his sole focus.

And so, barely conscious of what he was doing, Severus connected to the wards of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Almost as though he was fingering each one, Severus found that one strand that meant that any not bearing the Dark Mark of Lord Voldemort was forbidden entry. And with one mental twist, he severed it.

The fall of that ward echoed in his mind. The Dark Lord’s eyes snapping towards him told Severus that _he’d_ felt it too.

“What have you done?” Lord Voldemort hissed.

“I have lowered a single ward,” Severus replied simply, barely recognising himself with this foolish impetuousness.

“ _Avada kedavra!”_ the Dark Lord cast viciously.

Severus barely had time to note the flash of silver erupt from the Lovegood girl’s wand before the light left his own eyes.

-oOoOo-

The sudden appearance of a silver ethereal hare appearing in front of Amelia startled her to her feet.

“ _The ward is down!”_

Exactly why it was Luna Lovegood’s voice instead of Minerva or Sirius’ as the plan called for, was instantly dismissed from Amelia’s thoughts as being a question for later. Much later.

“Everyone listen up!” she called, instantly gaining everyone’s attention. “The ward’s down. We have a go. Everyone knows the plan: take down the guards as quickly and as quietly as you can. Once they realise that we’re there, everything’s going to go to hell pretty quickly. Aim to hit those werewolves and trolls as quickly and as hard as possible. The team dealing with fire crabs, you know what to do – don’t worry about trying to save them, just put them down and keep them out of the fight.

“Let’s go!”

-oOoOo-

Lord Voldemort strode back and forth in front of the captured fools who thought that they could infiltrate his castle. His eyes never left them as he considered how best to proceed. Torture was obviously in all of their near futures, simply the order and how long and pronounced the initial session would be had yet to be decided.

The body of Severus Snape lay on the floor behind him, ignored. _That_ had been a surprise. Lord Voldemort _hated_ surprises, especially ones that were completely unpleasant. Exactly what the fool had thought that he was accomplishing by lowering the ward he still wasn’t able to fathom.

What was worse was that, when he’d attempted to raise the ward that blocked those without the Dark Mark from entering again, he’d found that he couldn’t. Control of the wards had been taken from him. _Why_ that had happened and _where_ the controls now rested were questions that a former Deputy Headmistress could easily answer.

First, though, was finding out exactly how this _group_ had managed to bypass the ward in the first place. If there were holes in the wards, then they needed to be remedied.

His eyes rested on the Potter boy and he cocked his head as he considered him. The memory that he’d taken from those failures had shown a Potter with a missing left forearm and a face that was heavily scarred. And while the arm was still missing, the face was blemish free; not even the famous lightning bolt could be seen.

“Harry Potter,” Lord Voldemort purred. “It is fitting that we should meet again, if only to finish what I started all those years ago. And this time with no mother here to protect you.”

“He’s not alone!” Sirius barked.

A simple wave of his wand ensured that he wouldn’t be interrupted again; the other six now being silenced.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...”_ Lord Voldemort quoted slowly.

“What is that?” Potter asked, confusion written on his face.

“A prophecy, Potter,” Lord Voldemort replied. “Or at least the first part of a prophecy, concerning the two of us. Did Dumbledore never tell you?”

“No,” Potter replied with a shake of his head.

“Hmm, interesting,” Lord Voldemort mused. “There was also no record of it in the Department of Mysteries when I checked last month. Severus’ memories were quite clear, though. It was a true prophecy. Trelawny’s lack of memory of that night confirms its existence also.”

Beside Potter, Black’s mouth was opening and closing as he vehemently tried to yell something or other. Lord Voldemort simply ignored him.

“No matter,” he said. “While it would have been nice to know the full contents, it ultimately does not matter. I shall kill you in a moment and it shall simply become moot.”

Urgent pounding on the spiral stairs leading to the Headmaster’s office turned Lord Voldemort about so that he was standing, wand held loosely in his hand when Lucius Malfoy burst through the door and instantly dropped to his knees, his head all but resting on the ground.

“What is it, Lucius?” Lord Voldemort asked.

“My Lord, attackers!” Lucius gasped. “Dozens have infiltrated the grounds. Most of the patrols have been killed, including all of the trolls and the werewolves. It’s Bones. She’s leading them. They’re headed for the main doors.”

Lord Voldemort stared at the man for a full second before slowly turning to face the dead man on the floor.

“So that was your plan, was it, Severus?” he asked rhetorically.

Striding to the nearest window, Lord Voldemort looked over the grounds. It was hard to see in the black of night but the plethora of bright, multicoloured lights – spells – crisscrossing the lawn told its own story. The fact that there were more coming from the attackers rather than the defenders was cause for concern.

“Lucius, your arm,” Lord Voldemort commanded.

The instant that it was offered, a pulse of magic was sent into it, ordering all of his Death Eaters to guard the entrance to the castle with Bellatrix to lead them. It went without saying that they were to take no prisoners.

Turning about, it was to see the seven interlopers pulling themselves free from the wall and shaking loose their hands ready to bring their wands to bear. Obviously, the amount of power that he’d needed to use to communicate with his Death Eaters had interfered with his sticking charm and silencing charm.

As a sea of wands and a singular staff rose towards him. Lord Voldemort wasted not a second, viciously slashing his wand across them, ripping the wood from their hands and sending it clattering away against the wall on the far side of the room.

Like a conductor, Lord Voldemort twirled his wand wrapping six of them in ropes, binding them tightly from the neck all the way down to their feet. As the ropes finished binding each one, they wobbled for a moment before crashing to the ground with a cry of pain mingled with outrage and fear.

“As for you, Harry Potter, I will deal with you now; your friends can watch you die. Them, I shall kill later, after I’ve dealt with the rabble at my front door,” Lord Voldemort stated.

Almost lazily, he lifted his wand until it pointed straight at Potter’s chest.

“ _Ava – ”_ he began before a _popping_ sound followed by a _snapping_ interrupted him.

Lord Voldemort stared from his now wandless hand to the small, quivering figure standing just in front of Potter, it’s large green tennis ball-sized eyes staring between the wand in its hand – Lord Voldemort’s own – and the figure of himself towering over it.

“You shall not harm the Great Master Harry Potter Sir,” the house elf stated in a firm but high-pitched squeaky voice.

“Thanks, Dobs,” Potter said.

Lord Voldemort blinked as Potter shook his right hand, ejecting a wand from a hidden holster. His eyes widened as Potter’s wand began circling before slashing twice diagonally in the circle.

“ _Contorquet gladii!_ ” Potter yelled.

Lord Voldemort had barely enough time to blink, let alone to comprehend what was about to happen, before the spell, twin whirling swords, impacted him, slicing him to ribbons.


	25. Chapter 25

The sight before him was both horrifying and exhilarating at the same time. On the floor of the Headmaster’s Office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lay the body of Tom Riddle, self-styled Lord Voldemort. In eight tiny, bloody pieces. Blood was everywhere, still oozing from the pieces of the Dark Lord – in some cases from both ends – as well as splattered on the carpet, walls, books and portraits.

The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tom Riddle. Dead at Harry’s feet, by Harry’s hand. And with no soul anchors, horcruxes, left to tie him to Earth, he was gone for good.

A retching sound behind him shook Harry from his shock.

Turning about, Harry’s eyes darted to Hermione, finding her vomiting where she lay on her side completely bound in ropes. The sticky, disgusting mess had landed in her hair and on her face and was slowly spreading out around her.

A quick slash of his wand as he rushed to her vanished the ropes. A _scourgify_ cleaned up the majority of the mess, the rest he ignored as he wrapped his arms around her. As he held Hermione, he felt her sobs and heaving as the terror of the past few minutes overwhelmed her.

A _snap_ behind him turned Harry’s head.

“Nasty Old Master was trying to leave,” Dobby said with a shrug as he indicated Lucius Malfoy trussed up on the ground in front of the door.

“Great work, Dobby,” Harry said.

“Uh, a little help?” Sirius asked.

A series of _snaps_ from Dobby’s fingers had the ropes that bound the rest of the group vanishing.

One by one, they rose; Hermione clinging to Harry the whole time.

“You did it, Pup!” Sirius exclaimed, bounding over to join in the hug. “You offed him! No more Dark Lord!”

“Ugh, did you have to make it so messy, though?” Neville asked, one arm holding his stomach, the other over his mouth.

“Sorry, mate, first spell that popped into my head,” Harry replied.

“Alastor would be extremely pleased at your choice of spell,” Minerva replied as she retrieved their wands and Harry’s staff, “even if the results are rather grisly.”

A sudden _boom_ that shook the castle, rattling the windows, reminded them that they weren’t the only ones involved in battle that night.

“Looks like the fighting’s concentrated around the Great Doors,” Daphne commented from where she stood looking out the window.

“I can’t tell who’s winning,” Luna stated with a frown.

“The Death Eaters have got the most cover; they’re going to overwhelm Amelia and her forces unless something changes quickly,” Minerva stated.

“They need a distraction,” Harry mused.

“Got just the thing,” Sirius replied. “Open one of the windows.”

Harry turned to see Sirius levitating the surprised-looking head of Tom Riddle before him, blood was even still dripping from it. Quickly, he pushed one of the windows open and scurried out of the way.

The floating, bobbing head of the ex-Dark Lord was levitated out of the window before being banished towards the Great Doors.

“If that doesn’t distract them, I don’t know what will,” Sirius commented.

-oOoOo-

The unexpected meaty _thwap_ of something landing at the bottom of the steps leading to the very doors of Hogwarts castle surprised Bellatrix. Her eyes tracked the thing even as her wand arm continued its movements, casting the entrail expelling curse that she’d been in the middle of.

The head, as she realised it was, rolled twice before stopping in the light cast from the doors, face up. Its bald visage, lack of nose and dull red, staring eyes ripped a scream of absolute rage from her.

Her Lord.

Her Master.

No, it simply couldn’t be. Nothing _nothing_ could kill him. He’d beaten death before and shown himself invincible.

“Get up!” she screamed at him.

When the head remained still, she knew that he needed her, his most devoted of all Death Eaters, to come to his aid.

With nary a thought for her own safety, Bellatrix Lestrange left her cover, her eyes solely for the severed head of her Master.

It was no surprise to those watching, then, when a curse tore through Bellatrix’s neck. As her body toppled and fell forward, her severed head rolled the last couple of metres to come to rest alongside her Master’s.

-oOoOo-

The unexpected arrival of Tom Riddle’s severed head into the middle of the battle and the subsequent death of Bellatrix Lestrange froze all on the field of battle. All, that is, except for Amelia Bones.

Amelia’s wand barely stopped from the time that it’d cast that overpowered _diffindo_ to moving straight into a battle chain of spells.

Seeing her combination slam into two Death Eaters that had slightly left their cover reawakened the forces fighting alongside her.

Spells were shouted and cast with renewed vigour, a touch of victory already in the voices of the attacking force.

It was a victory that became more and more assured as each spell was cast. What little defence that came back at them slowly petered out. With the death of the Lord and his most able, vicious lieutenant, the fight seemed to have drained straight out of the remaining Death Eaters.

“Hold your fire!” Amelia called.

When all spell-fire had ceased, she eyed those in the castle, weighing, judging.

“Throw down your wands and come out with your hands up and you’ll be guaranteed a fair trial,” she called.

At first, it seemed as though none were going to take her up on her offer but, just as Amelia was about to order her forces to continue the attack, a lone wand was tossed through the air to land on the grass. Amelia watched as a shorter, plump, balding man, his mask missing, came into view, his arms stretched high above his head.

“I surrender. Don’t kill me,” he called in a wheezing voice.

And, as though that was the signal that others had been waiting for, dozens more wands were tossed out and other Death Eaters appeared, their arms high, their masks left on the stone floors where they’d been standing.

“Cover them. And get magic suppression cuffs on them as well,” Amelia ordered as she broke cover, her wand still raised, ready.

The first man had stopped just in front of the bodies of Riddle and Lestrange, his head bowed in defeat.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Amelia stated, looking at the man. “A wise decision. Probably the first one you’ve made in your life.

Moments later, Tonks was beside her, pulling out her cuffs and ripping the man’s hands behind his back to fix them.

Slowly, cautiously, Amelia continued on towards the castle. Just outside the Great Doors, she paused, took a deep breath and ducked inside, running hard up against the wall just in case. As soon as she reached the first suit of armour, she ducked behind it and took stock of the Entrance Hall.

While there were bodies there, none were alive. She sighed as she realised that more than one of them were still kids. In fact, the platinum blonde haired boy lying in front of the next window across, blood pooling from the side of his head, was Lucius Malfoy’s son if she wasn’t mistaken.

“The prisoners outside are secure. They’re in the process of being transported back to the holding cells in the Ministry,” Shacklebolt relayed in his deep voice as he approached. “We’ve won.”

Amelia shook her head. “Not quite yet. We’ve still got to make sure that there aren’t any hold outs hidden in the castle somewhere. Find Potter and Black, they should be in the Headmaster’s Office if I’m not mistaken. We need that map of theirs.”

After a single nod, Shacklebolt strode away being careful, she noted, to check each cross-corridor before passing it as he went.

-oOoOo-

The voice that crackled over the Wizarding Wireless Network was one that the entire population of Magical Britain recognised. What the Acting Minister for Magic announced caused celebrations up and down the country for nearly a week. Magical fireworks were even set off the first night before the culprit, Dedalus Diggle, was arrested for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Parties were held in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and a host of small magical pubs located throughout the isles.

_“The war is over!”_ Minister Bones announced. _“Tom Riddle, self-styled Lord Voldemort, was killed by Harry Potter last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Also killed were Bellatrix Lestrange, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Jeremiah Selwyn, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and a further thirty-nine Death Eaters. Twenty-one wizards on the attacking force were also killed in battle._

_“The Death Eaters that surrendered will be given trials as soon as they can be arranged once the Wizengamot has been recalled and a new Chief Warlock elected. The election of our new Minister for Magic will take place on Saturday, September twenty-eight._

_“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been secured for our students’ use as a school once more. At this stage, there is no set time when Hogwarts will reopen. Once a new Headmaster has been installed, they will make the decision and announcement when they are ready._

_“The students that had been held as hostages at Hogwarts before being rescued by Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass will be returned to Britain from their safe location by the end of the week._

_“I would like to thank each member of our magical community for your strength and endurance during this dark time. It has not been easy but together, we have prevailed. Now, together, we can work towards rebuilding our society, our homes, our businesses, our lives and to create a new beginning filled with hope, inclusion and acceptance, a society that we can be proud of._

_“Thank you.”_

Of course, the biggest and at the same time most understated response to Amelia’s message occurred in Diagon Alley. The morning after her announcement, the doors of Gringotts Bank were opened with no fanfare whatsoever. When the first witches and wizards tentatively ventured inside, it was to find the goblins going about the business, counting gold and sitting at their desks awaiting customers just as though the war had not happened.

-oOoOo-

“This is only temporary?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked, not for the first time.

Amelia and Minerva shared an amused look with each other.

“You’re too valuable an auror to lose, Shack,” Amelia replied. “Besides, if things go as I hope they don’t, I’ll need you more as the Head of the DMLE than as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“You’ll make an excellent Minister for Magic,” Minerva told her friend. “You’ve already proven that and the fact that no one has declared themselves as running against you, not to mention the way the public looks up to you says that the entire magical community agrees.”

Amelia simply frowned.

“Let’s get on with this,” she said. “Hogwarts needs at least a temporary Headmaster until the new Board can appoint one to ensure that the wards remain stable.”

With a nod, Minerva moved into position between Kingsley and the great ward stone hidden deep in the very bowels of the castle, only seen by a very few. Lifting her wand, she began the long, complicated spell that would tie man and castle together, just as Kingsley raised his wand.

“I, Kingsley Randolf Shacklebolt, do hereby …”

-oOoOo-

Augusta Longbottom looked over the vast crowds gathered in front of Gringotts from her position at the very top of the stairs on the small stage that had been erected there.

Wizards and witches, men and women and children of all ages, were packed together so closely that they could hardly breathe. There were so many there that the crowd even spilled both ways down the alley. People had taken up whatever vantage points they could get, even going so far as for a few to perch themselves either on broomsticks above the crowd below or on the very roofs of the buildings across the way.

Behind her and to the sides, a legion of goblins was arrayed. Many wore the armour and carried the weapons of the guards, obviously there to provide protection to the others. She recognised a few – Slipshard and Ragnok among them, and had no doubts that the others held just as important positions within the Goblin Nation as well.

_Yes,_ she nodded _, they were right to hold it here instead of in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic where this sort of ceremony was traditionally held. There simply would not have been enough room for everyone there._

Movement behind Augusta had her turning her head and smiling. Walking onto the erected stage were Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Amelia Bones, Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom and Minerva McGonagall.

Each of the young people were dressed in their Diricawl finest: polished black dragonhide boots, long black skirt for the girls or black cargo pants for the boys, a crisp white shirt and deep green and gold tie and over it all, the dark green robe, with a silver clasp at the throat and the golden badge of Diricawl Academy on the cloak’s left breast. Completing the outfit, each wore a dark green beret. Harry, of course, strode on to the stage with his staff _tapping_ with every other step.

As for the adults, Amelia wore her official auror uniform, appropriate as she had not _yet_ been elected to the Minster for Magic’s post. Sirius and Minerva sported new cloaks with a hint of forest green in them, a nod, Augusta guessed, to their allegiance to Diricawl Academy.

Once all were in their proper positions, although both Neville and Harry appeared to be fighting the urge to fidget, Augusta gave a subtle nod to the small orchestra on the side of the stage.

The blast of music that erupted was thankfully short, at least in Augusta’s opinion. Once the music had stopped and all eyes were directed at the stage, Augusta took a single step forward, closer to the specialised wand that would not only amplify her voice for those in the Alley to hear but also to broadcast these proceedings to the greater magical community via the Wizarding Wireless Network.

“My name is Madam Augusta Longbottom, Regent for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom and member of the Wizengamot. It is my great honour and privilege today to officiate at this Order of Merlin ceremony. Ordinarily, that honour would fall to the Minister of Magic, but seeing as elections have yet to occur and that our Acting Minister is one of the recipients, along with the fact that the Wizengamot has yet to elect a new Chief Warlock, I have been appointed.

“Before I award the medals to our recipients today, I should like to take the opportunity to explain to you the actions that these people behind me have taken which has resulted in their being awarded today.

“Amelia Bones has been the most prominent of our Awardees today. During the first part of this latest war, she was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In this role, she acted in defence of our country, tirelessly working to track down and arrest the terrorists that plagued our nation. After the coup that resulted in Tom Riddle and Delores Umbridge taking control of the Ministry of Magic, Amelia continued to act in defence of the magical and mundane population, directing and participating in numerous battles, using what limited resources she still had at her disposal.

“Amelia Bones was also the spearhead at the front of the counterattack that took place here in Diagon Alley when the citizens here were being killed by Death Eaters; she led one of the major forces in liberating the Ministry of Magic itself; accepted the role of Acting Minister for Magic; and led the assault on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Today, for achievement and endeavour beyond the extraordinary, Amelia Susan Bones is awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class.”

The claps, cheers, whistles and sheer roar of approval that erupted was enough to almost deafen those on the stage and Augusta wondered how well the Alley’s wards could hold up to such a noise.

As Amelia walked across the stage, Augusta leant down and lifted the great golden medallion by its purple ribbon from the case that the house elf that appeared beside her bore. Straightening, Augusta smiled at her old friend and reached up and placed the ribbon around her neck. As it settled, a second, equally as loud cheer was sent up from the crowd.

Once Amelia was back in line with her fellow recipients and the crowd had quietened, Augusta announced the next group of awards.

“It has become common knowledge in our community that, after Tom Riddle captured Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he held our entire country to ransom by holding our children hostage within the wards of the school, wards that he made impenetrable by any not bearing the Dark Mark that he made all of his followers bear. It is also common knowledge that it was the actions of Sirius Black, Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter that resulted in our children being rescued and taken to safety.

“What is not common knowledge is _how_ they managed such a feat.

“A flaw was found in the great wards surrounding Hogwarts, a flaw that allowed animagi to penetrate the anti-Dark Mark wards – a flaw that I must add has been rectified in the wards that have been erected around the Ministry of Magic building. I will also add that those who had not yet been registered as being Animagi have since registered with the Ministry.

“Utilising this flaw, the six of them, in their Animagus forms, infiltrated Hogwarts, evaded the Death Eaters and magical creatures loyal to Tom Riddle and liberated our children, rescuing them and getting them away from danger.

“These six utilised this flaw a second time on the night of the final battle at Hogwarts. Once again, they infiltrated the wards that kept all others out and convinced then-Headmaster Severus Snape to lower the anti-Dark Mark ward, allowing the Ministry and volunteer forces to attack and defeat Riddle’s forces once and for all.

“For these actions, Sirius Orion Black, Hermione Jane Granger, Daphne Ophelia Greengrass, Neville Francis Longbottom and Minerva Margaret McGonagall are awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class.”

Once again, the crowd erupted with a deafening cheer and managed to keep it up as each, one by one, walked forward to have the purple-ribboned gold medallion placed around their neck. Augusta had tears in her eyes as she presented Neville’s, even going ‘off-script’ to lean forward and give her grandson a hug and a kiss on his cheek.

Finally, when the five of them had all had their medals presented and were back in place, Augusta smiled at the last remaining awardee. Turning back to the crowd, she could feel the expectancy in the very air.

“Finally, Harry James Potter is awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class for, not only the actions that I have already described, but also for his acts of outstanding bravery in numerous battles, including here at Diagon Alley, at the Ministry of Magic and in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In addition to this, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Again, the Chosen One, the Man-Who-Won, killed the Dark Lord, Tom Riddle, ridding magical Britain forever of his evil.

“Harry Potter!”

As the young man in question stepped forward, his now famous staff in hand, Dobby appeared on the stage bearing his friend and master’s award. Augusta reached in and pulled out the golden medallion by its green ribbon, turned and hung it around his neck.

As soon as it was placed, she stepped back, joining in with the applause and cheers from the crowd that now included the goblin guards crashing their spears against their shields. If Augusta had thought that the sound of the crowd before was loud, then she now realised that she was absolutely and completely wrong. The explosion of sound was akin to a great roar that a herd of dragons would make.

Harry, for his part, took it well, standing tall in the middle of the stage, alone until he gestured at those behind him.

Tears fell from Augusta’s eyes as firstly, Hermione joined him, wrapping him in a hug, her mouth and smile indicating that she was laughing although no sound could be heard. Neville was next, throwing one arm over Harry’s shoulder and raising the other in the air. And then the rest of them – Sirius, Daphne, Minerva and Amelia joined them sending the crowd even further into excitement and keeping the cheer and applause going for a long, long time.

_This,_ Augusta thought, _this truly proved that the war was finally won._


End file.
